


Fear and Loathing in Sandy Shores

by Daaahlias



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grumpy Old Men, Lovers to enemies to lovers, Lowkey novella, M/M, Michael having human emotions, Trevor having many human emotions, im dying inside, please comment im dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 69,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10978089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daaahlias/pseuds/Daaahlias
Summary: Michael De Santa and Trevor Philips have been exiled from Los Santos following the kidnapping of Patricia Madrazo. As Michael gets to the end of his rope and continues to lose more and more, he and Trevor begin to repair a relationship that had been broken for ten years.





	1. Caida Libre

**Author's Note:**

> This is honestly just me doing self indulgence because I was really depressed one night and wrote most of this over the course of four days and didn't sleep. I'm still editing every chapter so they may take some time to go up. Every other chapter takes place during missions but I skip some parts I didn't feel needed a rewrite. After Mission Chapters there are Interim's which are things that take place outside of mission mode and add more narrative to the rest of the plot. Anyway, enjoy, I literally made this account just to share this story because I live in shame. Enjoy!
> 
> Please leave comments i have depression and i need validation.

They were somewhere around the Grand Senora Desert when Michael was sure that the drugs were kicking in. Oh, not him, he wasn’t on drugs, no he was in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. If he was on drugs he was on a bad trip, the worst trip. It was the man driving the death machine stolen from a one Martin Madrazo; who had only stopped wanting Michael dead some weeks ago. In the passenger seat sat his wife, Patricia Madrazo, a sweet older woman that Trevor had kidnapped. No, wait, Trevor didn’t call it that, he called it  _ a rescue.  _ “You saw how that old fuck treated her! She’s a fucking goddess who should be fucking worshipped!” was what Trevor yelled back at the Quarry when Mrs. Madrazo was carried out from the trunk and placed in the passenger seat. 

Now Michael De Santa, formerly Michael Townley, was sitting in the back of a stolen black SUV. His head pressed up against the limoscene tinted windows while the AC blared so fucking hard he was ready for his dick to fall off. 

He watched Trevor, the fucking psycho, flooring it down the desert highway. He was singing some fucking punk song Michael was sure he’d heard Trevor play before once in the past. But Michael was beyond gone, once Trevor pulled up in a luxury black SUV and not his raggedy Bodhi, he was already detached from his body. Now he watched Trevor, his partner in crime, his best friend, maybe his worst fucking enemy, going way too fast down the highway as the coke started to kick in. 

As the song ended and faded into another, Trevor began beating the steering wheel glancing at Michael staring at him from the back. “Take a picture Mikey, can't betray a fucking picture!” Trevor shouted. Michael didn’t even fight back anymore, why the fuck did it matter anymore? He didn’t even go to his usual internal monologue of  _ woe is me.  _ He just sat completely still, quiet, staring at Trevor from the backseat.

In the passenger seat Patricia slapped Trevor’s arm. “Bad boy! Dont swear at your friends!” she scolded.

Trevor leaned into the wheel, licking his lips.  _ Fuck, he’s got a fucking crush. Fuck. Fuck.  _ was Michael’s first thought in the last hour. “Patricia, I’ll be the best boy you could ask for baby...AH! The things you do to me, jesus christ I am such a lucky fucker”

Patricia slapped his arm again, he threw back his head and laughed, apologizing. “Is the AC okay? I know you said you hate the desert but baby, just  _ wait  _ until you see our dream home! You hungry? Could stop at some fast food joint on the way there, you like burgers?”

“No, no fast food! Not at your age, silly boy, and definitely not for him!” she was pointing at Michael in the backseat who was beginning to return to his element. He sighed, trying to ignore the bellowing laughter coming from Trevor in the driver's seat. 

“Patricia, I know we just met but...I love you, I’m in love with you. I’d die for you. I’m serious.” Trevor swore.

Michael was completely back now. A smirk spread across his face, “Careful Mrs. Madrazo, the crazy fucker said the same thing to me 20 years ago and never left. He’s like a goddamn tick” he warned.

“Ah looks like our little fatty is back with us? Sorry sugar tits, I couldn’t hear you from up here” Trevor turned the radio volume up higher, Michael shook his head as Mrs. Madrazo began to rhythmically clap along to the punk rock stylings of some band T probably could talk about for hours.

 

The SUV rumbled as they passed a speed bump heading into Sandy Shores. Anyone who had lived in San Andres knew that Sandy Shores was just another armpit in the area outside LS. The sign advertised a population of 3,010, but how outdated that was was up to anyone. Now Sandy Shores was just another buttfuck hillbillie town, prostitutes, meth cooks, and general weirdo’s like Trevor Philips thrived here in the desert sun. 

They pulled up to Trevor’s trailer, where a small and loud man in a fisherman’s hat came running from next door. “Trevor!” He called as he sprinted to Trev who was carrying Mrs. Madrazo still bound like a bride, “You got married?”

“Ron, you flatter me you  _ pathetic FUCK!  _ No, this beautiful gift of life is Patricia Madrazo, she’s bunking with us a while. Go buy us a new mattress”

Ron was obviously puzzled. He hadn’t heard from Trevor or Wade for a while, and honestly had no idea what was going to come out from behind the van. He squinted, “ _ us? _ ”

Michael was skulking around the side of the SUV, taking out a filtered Redwood and shoving it in between his thin lips. Part of him was actually worried about lighting a cigarette concerning that the lot which Trevor Philips called home could be home to thousand of flammable molecules that would wipe Sandy Shores off the map in a second. But what the fuck did he care?

“That pathetic excuse for a human being is Michael, he’s living with me a while along with this beautiful creature” he said not giving it anymore of his time as he began walking up to his trailer. “Now go get a new fucking matress Ron! A nice one, I want your fucking ex wife to be so far up your asshole for buying the fanciest fucking bed in Blaine County that she finds cancer”

Ron glared down Michael, taking full stock of him. He held one finger to his left nostril and blew a booger out the right. His own way of being intimidating as best he could. Michael didn’t make any grand gestures, he just kept smoking his cigarette imagining it’d probably be his last. If Sandy Shore’s airborne disease of Hillbillie didn’t kill him, or Martin Madrazo when he figured out where they were, then the heat probably would. 

“RON!” Trevor yelled as he kicked his trailer door in.

“Yes Trevor?” He called back desperately. It made Michael’s skin crawl, what the fuck was the angle here? Was this guy just so pathetic that he was really at T’s beck and call?

“The BED! And make it a twin, fuck knows I dont have a lot of space as it is with lard ass moving in too” He called back as he entered his trailer. 

Ron nodded, “Okay, Trevor! I’ll go right now!”

“Fucking pathetic” Michael murmured under his breath shaking his head, reaching the end of his cigarette. 

“ _ Excuse me? _ ” Ron sneered, but just as quickly as the words came out of his mouth, Trevor came out the door without Madrazo.

He called out, “RON! You’re pathetic!”

“I know Trevor!” Ron cried, running back towards his trailer to get in his piece of shit pickup.

Trevor looked at Michael who tossed his cigarette bud in the ground and crushed it under his sandals.  _ Thank fuck I wore shorts today,  _ were his only thoughts.

Trevor barked back, “Hey! This is my place you fucking respect it! Pick your shit up like a goddamn civilized human being you fucking reptilian!” 

Michael and Trevor glared at each other from across the lawn. High noon sun was setting in, and the heat made Trevor’s forehead beaded with sweat and his cheeks flushed. Michael wasn’t looking that amazing either, he sunburned like a motherfucker. 

They just kept staring, no end in sight. Fuck if they could go on like that for hours. Eventually Michael squatted down and grabbed the bud, yelled “Fuck it!” and stomped inside, throwing the bud on the dirty linoleum with mysterious brown stains embedded into the tile. Michael ducked past Trevor, letting his shoulder graze his chest. 

Trevor chuckled, “Thank you  _ Augustus,  _ now if you’ll excuse me I have buisness” Trevor strided into the trailer grabbing an ever familiar small leather pouch. “I’ll see you in a few hours, my love” he said pointing at Mrs. Madrazo, still bound but seemingly content.

Michael sighed, sitting on the ratty couch next to her. “The fuck am I supposed to do?” Michael barked

“ _ Boo hoo little baby doesn’t know how to handle his free time?  _ Go buy a hookers and blow, I don't fucking care” Trevor said in his baby voice trying to get more of a rise out of Michael that he had already successfully fished out. For a second it was quiet until he pointed a dirty finger at Michael, the blood already dried under his fingernails. “ _ Don't you fucking touch her you hear me? Don't you fucking infect her with your shittiness, Michael”  _

For a brief minute, Michael and Trevor were back in the past. Roles reversed. Michael echoed, “ _ Don't you fucking come near my family again you hear me? Don't you fucking infect my family with your shit, Trev _ ”

Michael didn’t say anything. Trevor was already itching, he just went into his bedroom and slammed the thin sliding wood door. Michael rolled his eyes.

He turned to Mrs. Madrazo, “So, got any hobbies?”

 

Two hours later a twin sized bed with floral sheets and a white lace comforter were in the corner of the trailer in between the kitchen and television. Ron set it all up not saying anything, just the occasional glares at Michael and the friendly looks he gave to Mrs. Madrazo.  _ Jesus what did Trevor do to this guy,  _ Michael thought. His mind immediately went to the worst fucking scenario: Trevor ate his fucking wife, right after he fucked her in front of Ron probably. Michael wasn’t sure if Cannibalism was on Trevor’s infinite list of crimes against humanity, but he wouldn’t put it past him. I mean jesus, this guy couldn’t be this pathetic and docile on his own right? 

That thought didn’t keep him busy very long. It floated to worry, what the fuck was he suppose to  _ do  _ now? He’d already lost his family, and now he’d been exiled from Los Santos. Amanda hadn’t called, Jimmy only texted to ask for more money which he begrudgingly gave more up. But more seriously, how the  _ fuck  _ was he going to get back? Trevor wasn’t going to give Patricia up, he was already smitten. His mother issues would turn into sheer fucking murderous rage if Michael attempted to bring Patricia home without his permission. But Martin was going to fucking tear him apart too, probably tie his limbs to different cars and have them race to see whose limb came off his body first.  _ How the fuck do I keep getting surrounded by fucking psychos.  _

He lit a cigarette as he contemplated. He needed to be pragmatic, they were lying low now, Trevor understood that. Trevor didn’t want to lose Patricia now, so he’d need to behave for now until he either lost her or got too high to care. With that maybe he could keep Trevor on a shorter leash, using Patricia as a bargaining chip with him when he started acting up. As long as Trevor behaved, that should buy Michael some time to figure things out. 

_ Fuck _ , he forgot, the feds. They were going to go to his door asking for another favor soon, they were never too far behind when trouble came. They were going to have to do some other shitty underpaid mission for the fucks again, as if he didn’t have enough to worry about. 

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Patricia turned to him, “You’re worried about your friend?” she offered.

“My friend? What? Oh, no. Fuck if I care what he’s doing in there.” He mumbled. Immediately he regretted it. He shook his head, “Yeah, i’m worried about him all the time but thats not the least of my worries right now. Patricia, do you want to go home?”

“Home? But he just bought me a new bed! Its an adventure.”

_ Oh christ, the Stockholm Syndrome kicks in fast these days.  _ He sighed, “Well then, looks like we’d better get ourselves some fucking hobbies Mrs. Madrazo, because we’ll be here a while”

 

Trevor came outside of his bedroom sometime after Michael finished his last cigarette. He was talking with Franklin on his iFruit. He was already resigned to the chaos that would follow his residence in Sandy Shores he just passively filled him in. “Hey kid, I know its a drive but, uh, could you bring my car and some of my shirts?” 

“Oh boy, time for some fat fuck suburban fashion imported straight from Vinewood” Trevor laughed before he yelled out Ron's’ name again. 

“Yeah man, I’ll bring it by tomorrow. You...You’re okay out there though? You sure you don't want me to stop by Ammu-nation?” Franklin offered.

Michael loved this kid so fucking much, it was ridiculous. He was his business partner but also his second chance at being a parent, even if he was already too grown up for any of Michael’s parental behavior. Part of him wanted to just forget it, wave it off and tell him its alright he’ll be back soon just hang out. But Franklin was too smart for that, fuck, he was probably smarter than Michael. 

“It's alright, kid. Just take care of yourself coming out here alright? Pick yourself up a new vest, I got some cash in my Suburban Hoodie that’ll cover it and i’ll pay for your taxi back to LS”

They concluded their call and Michael went to go piss in the bathroom. Trev was obviously still chasing something, but was coherent enough to stand and form basic sentence structures. Michael stared at the fresh track marks on T’s neck, feeling a pit in his stomach. He hated this, he hated Trevor like this. He never liked him with drugs, he was bad enough sober, the drugs just made him more unpredictable. It made something inside him squirm. “Hows our kid?”

“Fuck no, I do not have a fucking child with you of all people T”

Trevor was too high to sneer. He stumbled to the fridge and took out a beer. “Franklin. Our protege. Our fucking student who we love and adore and would kill for”

“You’d kill for anyone”

“How is he?” he insisted

“He’s alright. Bringing some of my clothes and my car, don't shit on my clothes alright T?”

“Michael, why would i wipe my shit off my asshole with your shit?”

“What”

“Fuck you”

Michael zipped his fly back up and went to the kitchen to wash his hands over the pile of dirty dishes that looked like they were stuck in cement the water was so filthy. Michael ignored it, he surrendered,  _ whatever whatever whatever  _ was just was kept going across his mind. “So who is Ron?”

“A business associate, loyal, unlike  _ you _ ”

Ron ran into the trailer, tripping over his flip flops. What followed was Trevor barking at this man, who probably weighed 80 pounds wet, about why the fuck couldn’t he manage the business while he was gone. Michael couldn’t believe that Trevor trusted this guy over him, he didn’t even look like he could be trusted to turn the lights on without electrocuting himself.

Then there was mention of a plane.

Trevor and flying were strange to Michael. Trevor was always high, but he was the best fucking pilot around. He remembered when they first started hanging out, T would purposely spin the tiny plane in a circle, upside down, under bridges, or so high up you swore that you were just a glorified doll living in a fucked up dream world. Trevor’s eyes lighted up when the mention of flying came up, a smile automatically pushed aside whatever was going on because he was gonna fly. Michael loved Trevor when he was passionate like that, he remembered he use to see that look a lot more before. 

“I’m in” Michael offered. He actually dreaded getting in a plane with Trevor, especially how they were right now. He’d purposely pretend that he was going to crash the plane just to see if Michael could blow out a fucking artery. But he felt so fucking contained in this tin shack, he needed to get the fuck out.

“No, no, you sit down. You’re a wanted man,  _ stay low.  _ And watch her, she good lady” Trevor instructed as he ran out the door. 

Michael sighed. He couldn’t fucking stay in this shack, he was gonna lose his fucking mind. 

Outside Trevor rode away in his Bodhi, inaudibly yelling at Ron.

Mrs. Madrazo was watching  _ Fame or Shame  _ contently.  _ ‘She good lady’ you mean she’s enough like the mom you want to fuck that you want to keep her around,  _ Michael thought to himself. He reached for his cigarette pack but quickly remembered it was empty, the buds all around the floor now. He realized Patricia wasn’t watching TV as he looked up, rather she was surveying her surroundings.

“Patricia” he called softly

“Yes?”

“If I untie you, what are you gonna do?”

“You boys are so messy, I need to clean”

_ Jesus does everyone just become docile to him the minute they breath in his bullshit?...am I like that?  _

Michael stood up and broke Patricia’s zip ties around her legs and hands. “Look, I need another pack of smokes. Please...dont run away alright? I got too many fucking people trying to kill me, and Trevor will actually do it”

“Smoking is what will kill you!” she lectured.

“Trevor just finished shooting up in his goddamn room!” he whined, something oddly familiar about this.

“He is a troubled boy” Patricia softly spoke. Michael rubbed his temples,  _ Jesus christ its like i’m trying to defend myself against my little brother...and that fucker is the same age as me.  _

He just waved as he left the trailer for Patricia to do whatever she was gonna do. He opened up his phone to find the nearest place to buy a carton of cigarettes. As his phone searched for wifi, he looked up in the baby blue sky and watched a yellow cropduster do cartwheels in the distance.

 

Trevor didn’t come back until late in the night. Michael went out and bought chinese food for everyone, which made Patricia very depressed. “Oh I wanted to cook you boys a healthy dinner.” She sighed, “You are a little chubby bunny! And he is too skinny!” But most of the food in Trevor’s fridge wasn’t...legally...food...

They also didn’t have a car and the nearest grocery store was a thirty minute drive and Michael didn’t trust that Martin wouldn’t be around the corner ready to set him on fire. At least Trevor had the skies. 

After Michael returned from the gas station a short blocks away he brought back some random food stuffs that were edible to humans. Patricia was already hard at work cleaning everything, it was insane to Michael how she could do it. She got the cemented sludge in the sink to go away and the sink actually looked like a sink when she was done. The fridge that had a literal bell jar filled to the brim with dead spiders, that she got rid of. Once he got back she was hard at work removing the stains on the linoleum. She even found one of Trev’s old ashtrays that Michael remembered from years ago with a stupid fucking cartoon moose on it.

_ “Look fuckface! It's you!”  _ Michael snorted, reeking of pot as him and Trevor passed through a gas station. Trevor tackled him to the floor, calling him racist, Michael explaining that it wasn’t. The shop owner escorted them out by firing off his shotgun in their general direction. Trevor kept the ashtray.

“Patricia, do you need any help?” Michael offered, kneeling down on the ground with her.

“Oh sweet boy! No, this calms me” she said waving him away.

He felt so useless. Whenever he felt useless he remembered how Trevor would say that he was making everything about him and look outside himself. Well he did, he asked Patricia if she needed help but she didn’t want it. He felt the same fucking way whenever he ran into the maid at home. He hated having a maid, it made him feel like such a shitbag that he couldn’t even clean up after himself. But he was a naturally messy person, T even more so. 

Patricia had laid out the couch cushions to dry in the desert sun after scrubbing the mysterious stains out of them. Michael didn’t even realize the couch was suppose to be green, not various shades of brown and black.

Michael grabbed Trevor’s moose ashtray and went into the bedroom. He sat in Trevor’s bedroom, the only untouched part of the trailer. It smelled like bleach and other cleaning fluids in the rest of the trailer, but Trevor’s stink stayed in his room. He shut the sliding door.

Michael always pitied himself, no matter what he was always the least fortunate person in the room. He knew he was more often than not wrong, in fact he was almost always the most fortunate and privileged person in any situation. But as he sat in Trevor’s room he felt something rise up in him.

At first he thought  _ fuck i’m gonna throw up.  _ And then as his face turned hot, fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He just started  _ sobbing.  _

He didn’t light a cigarette. He just sobbed sitting in that tiny room. He felt like shit, why did he always fuck up so badly. He knew he fucked up Trevor, he didn’t know if we was expecting Trevor to die in the ten years or survive, but it just destroyed him to think about what he’d done. How could he even fix this? He ruined things the night he watched Trevor himself against a brick wall until the snow beneath him turned red, and Michael looked away. he couldn’t even think about Yankton right now he was already too fucked.

As he felt himself starting to ease up and the tightness in his throat go away, Patricia swung the door open. She handed him her lace handkerchief that had her initials in one corner. She kissed his forehead, “Silly boy” she said before she patted his head and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

He wiped his tears and blew his nose. He didn’t need a cigarette anymore, he needed something but he didn’t know what. Fuck he always needed something, but he had everything. When Amanda wanted attention, he fucked strippers. When Jimmy seemed less involved in his video games, he was out with Franklin. He didn’t even want to think about Tracey, it made him too sad, but he was on his mind along with everyone else.

He’d named Tracey after Trevor. It was an awkward discussion with Amanda. It was a month after Tracey was born, Michael had persuaded her to name their daughter  _ Tracey.  _ In a moment of soft tenderness with his wife he chuckled, “There’s no girl version of Trevor, but no’ll ever be Trevor. Least Tracey has a legacy to live up to.” The look on Amanda’s face was so many emotions he laughed hysterically about it for hours. He didn’t tell Trevor that, or Tracey even. It was a secret between Amanda and Michael.

Fuck...Why did he do that to Trevor? Why was he such a shit head.

He laid down on Trevor’s bed. He had a paper thin pink blanket with tiny lint stuck to it. He hugged it and inhaled deeply. It smelled like him...fuck, he hated his smell but loved it so much. It was intoxicating. Trevor smelled like cheap beer and the wind on a summer night by the ocean. Even now he was dirty and depressed and living in a shitty shack, but still smelled like he did when he was 20. When Michael smelled Trevor he remembered those nights on the runway, his face buried in Trevor’s bomber jacket.

Michael thought about Trevor a lot, so much so it was an understatement. Before North Yankton, he was worried if he hadn’t heard from him in a few days. He’d think about him when he slept next to his wife, hoping he was asleep in a bed and not behind a dumpster. He thought about him so much it was an obsession, Trevor Philips was always on his brain. 

After Yankton, Trevor wasn’t so much a thought, but a nightmare. He’d sometimes give into the sick fantasy, that one day Trevor Philips would show up in his fake mansion that he hated and burn it to the fucking ground. He’d murder him and his whole family and wipe them off the map. 

But no, mainly he thought about Trevor after finding out Michael died.

Before the heist, fuck...Michael made so many mistakes he felt like it could fill whole encyclopedias. But tonight, as he hugged the blanket that smelled like his best friend, his only friend, he thought about Yankton and Trevor. The month before the Heist, Trevor met Michael behind a bar where Michael broke his heart. Trevor fell to his knees sobbing, begging Michael not to leave him. But Michael was ice cold. He told him that after Ludendorff, he was taking his family and leaving no trail for Trevor to follow. It was after the feds got involved, but it was Michael saying those hurtful words. Michael knew Trevor had no one. His mother was god knows where, he never had a father, his friends were either dead because of drugs or blind ambition. But for 10 years, Michael stayed. He was a constant, a friend, a lover. They were always together, no matter how much everyone may have hated it they were brothers and fuck if they didn’t love each other.

_ “Mikey don't fuck with me!”  _ Trevor wailed, holding onto Michael’s jacket as he kneeled before him, broken.  _ “Is it the meth? I’ll fucking quit! I’ll use all of my cash from this heist to go to rehab! Michael! Please!” _

_ “It's not the drugs, T. I have a family”  _

_ “I’m your fucking family!!”  _

It hit him like a daggers.  _ I’m your fucking family,  _ God, it was worse than anything he’d ever heard. When T said that his voice cracked, he sniffed the snot that was already resting on his lip and was shaking before Michael who waved him away. He left Trevor behind a bar in the snow, sobbing and wailing, throwing himself against the brick wall adjacent to him as he screamed. Michael saw blood splatter against the snow mixed with mud, he turned away. 

But the night before North Yankton, he took it back. Fuck. No, he couldn’t think about that now. He was already a sad sack of shit, and if he kept thinking about all the ways he fucked over Trevor Philips he’d probably kill himself for being such a pathetic excuse for a human being.

 

Michael helped Patricia set the table with paper plates and napkins he had bought with his cigarettes earlier. Most of Trevor’s dishes were so soaked with sludge, it would take Patricia days to disinfect them, let alone get them back to the original color they were before. 

They sat at the table making small talk. Patricia started talking about God, and Michael just quietly pretended to listen. He was too tired to try and engage in that kind of conversation.

Patricia refused to let either of them eat until Trevor returned home, so Michael spent a fair bit of the evening fearing that Patricia would fucking pass out from low blood sugar with how she was cleaning earlier. Patricia had left the front door open so that the smell of chemicals could fade into the desert air.

Then Trevor came through the door, or  _ barreled,  _ through. His legs were scraped to hell with road rash, and bloody footprints followed behind him. He stopped at the door mat, and took off his shoes noticing the clean floor. Michael stood up, yelling “Christ T!”

“ _ Christ T! _ ” Trevor mimicked back. He was limping, his face was covered in scrapes too.

Patricia covered her mouth in shock, upon seeing that he waved her away. “Don't worry my love, just some new scars for this mug you’re stuck with” he said with a wink.

Michael ran to the bathroom and looked for something, some form of bandage and disinfectant. Of course he didn’t fucking have anything like that. Why would he? Michael opened the fridge that was almost completely empty now that all of the other inedible items were gone. A weathered bottle of Vodka rested in the very back. He grabbed it and went into the bathroom, “Trevor, c’mon we gotta clean those wounds”

He laughed weakly. He was coming down from his high, he wasn’t invincible anymore. He was tired. “Look mikey, if you want to clean my wounds you gotta start with the knife you left in my back  _ 10 years ago _ ”

Michael rolled his eyes. 

Trevor noticed the chinese food on the table and the set table. He turned his head, confused about what he was looking at. Michael just assumed anything relatively normal puzzled Trevor, nothing was ever normal for him. 

“We were waiting for you to come home to eat” Michael explained, Patricia still incapacitated by her shock at the extent of Trevor’s injuries. 

He faked a sniffle, “Oh Mikey! You somewhat care about me!” 

Patricia came up to Trevor and slapped his bicep. “Bad boy! You’re going to get sick! Go get cleaned up with your friend!”

Michael watched Trevor suck on his bottom lip. He’d seen that before. Back when he could control Trevor somewhat. 

Trevor put his hands on her shoulders, “Patricia, I’ll get cleaned if you eat alright? I mean jesus, you launched a full on attack on mí casa!”

Michael continued going through Trevor’s medicine cabinet looking for a first aid kit. The whole tiny storage unit was just biohazardous waste, he knew he was going to come down with a mysterious disease in a few days that would kill him he was sure. 

Patricia and Trevor eventually came to an understanding. Trevor tucked himself into the tiny bathroom that could barely fit one adult man, let alone two. 

Trevor and Michael were both physically completely different. Michael was shorter than Trevor and chubby, Trevor was tall and skinny. Before Trevor started doing hardcore stuff, he was already tiny, his skin clung to his bones and muscle for dear life. Michael worried, he worried so much he was gonna rip his thinning hair out of his head. He hoped Trevor would start to gain some fucking weight now that Patricia was gutting the trailer and there was edible food in the fridge.

Trevor took his shirt off and looked at the large gash on his back, “Well i’ll be fucked” 

“Yeah, you really did a fucking number T” Michael said as he unscrewed the cap off of the vodka. “Sit on the toilet, dick head.”

“Oooo is this naughty potty training time?”

“Jesus fucking christ, T sit the fuck down.”

Trevor sat down on the toilet but only after he took his shorts off. Michael’s eyes automatically wandered, it was what he’d always done when he saw Trevor naked. He inhaled quietly to himself staring at T’s dick for the first time in 10 years. He tried to get it together, telling himself he’s too old for this shit, trying to focus on Trev’s smiley face tattoo instead. But slowly, he felt himself looking down again.  _ Jesus christ, Michael pull it the fuck together.  _

Trevor took notice but kept it to himself, a little something to remember for himself.

“Don't take a shit while i’m in here, asshole”

“It's my fucking house!” Trevor defended, “Besides no one told you to watch me shit”

Michael didn’t bother fighting anymore. It wasn’t worth it. 

He put his hands on Trevor’s shoulders, feeling his collarbones between his fingers. He could see faded scars there from previous drug excursions, some faded scratch marks that wanted to be remembered. He inhaled deeply again as Trevor scratched his dandruffy hair. 

“You ready for this?” Michael asked

“You’re  _ KILLING  _ me with anticipation Michael!” Trevor hollered, his voice bouncing off the walls. 

Michael started a small stream of vodka just above where the wound started. Immediately, Trevor craned his back, throwing his head back purposely panting. “Oh god yeah, right there Daddy, yeah hurt me so good”

“Grow the fuck up T”

“Make me asshole”

Michael kept pouring. He watched the clear liquid run along the bright red marks on his back and eventually pool along the toilet seat. The bathroom smelled like rubbing alcohol and Michael was thankful because he had no idea what the  _ fuck  _ Trevor could possibly be doing on the toilet and he didn’t want to know.

Trevor was good with pain. He could get shot and just laugh, take another bullet, laugh, and the cycle could continue until he passed out. But every now and again he genuinely wincing in pain, rolling his shoulders and shutting his eyes tight. Michael put his weight on the hand on Trevor’s shoulder, watching his bones move under his skin. 

“So, on a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you hate me, Sugar Tits?”

“Depends, are you going to swap out what the numbers mean after I answer again?”

“No!” he asserted. He was looking on the ground and squeezing his knees. Michael knew right then he fucked up, god damn it what the fuck is  _ wrong  _ with him. 

He stopped pouring the vodka and squeezed the bridge between his brows. Trevor came home limping and covered in his own blood and he doesn't even ask. 

“So do you care if I crashed a fucking plane into a bigger plane?”

“You did what?!--” Michael exclaimed, “T what the fuck!”

“Merryweather is what the fuck! And then the fucking coast guard shot me down with fucking rockets.”

Michael felt worse that he wasn’t worried about where this story was going. After all the ending was right there in front of him. Trevor got home alright, well,  _ relatively.  _

“You really don't give a shit about me, huh?” Trevor snarled, grabbing the bottle out of Michael’s hand. Michael watched Trevor’s adam’s apple bob as he drank. After he was finished, Trev poured the rest on his leg wound, letting his socks get nice and wet. 

“Look, Trevor, you fucking uprooted my life! I’m sorry that I’m not so fucking involved in your life while mine is disintegrating!”

Trevor didn’t even look at him. Michael could feel the rage radiating from Trevor’s bare skin like the worst fucking fever ever. He drank the rest of the vodka that remained and put his shorts back on. He pointed a finger at Michael in the small confines of that bathroom, and spat “You are the most self absorbed piece of shit I have  _ ever  _ been cursed with!”.

Michael bit his tongue as Trevor shoved him aside, opening the bathroom door and quietly grabbing the plates that Patricia had made for them before she went to sleep on her new bed. The lights were off in the main part of the trailer where she slept except for the TV. Trevor lingered there, Michael felt his urges rising up inside of him. When he was young he’d hold Trevor’s head to his chin while they lay in the back of a pickup truck and wonder  _ what is in there what's in there i want to know.  _ He felt it now, and as Trevor’s aging silhouette as a defeated and broken man stood watching a brief clip of the next  _ Fame or Shame.  _ When it was over he pushed Michael away and went into his room, leaving the door open. He sat down on the bed and started to eat the generic chinese food, chicken and rice and broccoli. He left Michael’s plate far away from him, like it was shit on a plate. He ate with his bare hands, shoving the chicken in his mouth and then the rice. He was ignoring Michael, classic Trevor. 

“Are you okay?” Michael finally asked.

“Like you give a shit” Trevor murmured. “You want me dead anyway, right? That was the original plan. Fake your death, get Brad put in the slammer, and hope that ol’ Uncle T gets capital punishment”.

Trevor was looking at Michael with this sick smile, slowly Trevor began to nod in agreement with himself. “Well sugar tits, it's my fucking trailer, my fucking hostage, but I’m a decent fucking man, unlike you. You leave Sandy Shores now, Madrazo is gonna eat your goddamn liver. So congratulations, you can take advantage of  _ sad pathetic Trevor  _ once again you piece of shit!”.

Michael sat down and began to eat. He ignored Trevor, or tried to. Occasionally he’d catch a side glimpse of him, eating his food like he hadn’t eaten in days, like he was a wild animal...well, he kinda was and probably was starving. But it still took him a long time to eat, he got distracted, he always did. He’d stop and look at his fingernails, or fuck with the radio clock with the hand he used to shove rice in his mouth, leaving kernels on his nightstand to be untouched by Patricia.

“T, I need you to talk to me” Michael said, breaking the silence, half done with his plate.

“What, you want my serving porkchop?”

“Please, with how you’re going you need all the fucking calories you can get” Michael jabbed back. He put his plate beside him and turned his body and watched Trev’s side profile as he tried to get his broken clock to tune to his favourite radio station. It was so weird to see him now, they were so much older, but only 10 years. Simultaneously, Micheal saw Trevor who killed his first man to save Michael when they were strangers. He saw Trevor who screamed his name when he went down in Yankton and refused to leave him until Mikey pretended to already be gone. And then he saw him how he was today in 2013. He was so fucking depressed, Michael wondered which one of them hated themselves more. Michael wanted to believe he would win.

He put his hand on Trevor’s boney knee. Feeling the softness of the skin untouched by needles and cigarettes after all these years, it felt like satin. “Are you okay?”

“In general? No, I’m usually pretty fucking distressed these days since a man I knew came back from the dead and is living in my fucking trailer.”

Michael scooted in closer, he grabbed Trevor’s hands cupped around the clock, challenging him. Trevor turned his eyes up to him, and  _ fuck,  _ Michael melted. Those caramel brown eyes, he couldn’t look at them without reliving every moment of their lives together all at once. He remembered when they were younger, they were laying low in a motel. Trevor held Michael’s face in his hands and kissed his eyelids, whispering “I want to fucking eat your eyes”.  _ Fuck, me too bud  _ he thought to himself now.

“Trevor, I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you” he yelled trying to loosen Michael’s grip.

Trevor!”

“No fuck you!” he could feel Trevor recoiling. He was losing him. He didn’t let go of his hands. “You...You’re a fucking liar. You have too many names, and everytime you change it you just fuck me over all over again!”

Trevor’s voice was bouncing off the walls now.  _ Jesus I hope Patricia is a deep sleeper,  _ Michael thought. Trevor shot up, letting all his food fall on the ground, Michael sighed,  _ so fucking wasteful man.  _

Trevor standing against the wall. The trailer felt too small but too big for them all at once. Michael just stared at Trevor while Trevor stared at him. Trevor had this look sometimes when he saw Michael, sometimes subtle, sometimes not. Like tonight, he watched Trevor’s bare chest rise and fall as he breathed in Michael’s scent among all of his belongings. His fists were clasped so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He looked so feral, so primal. Michael wanted him to rip him to shreds, let him do whatever he wanted with him until neither of them felt so old and sad anymore. 

Then the spell wore off. He spat, “I know you. I know everything about you. But you don't fucking know me, I’m just a fucking pit stop in your sad fucking life where you have everything and I have nothing! Its because I dont have shit, that you even come around! You don't fucking know me! You don't fucking know me!”

“I do know you asswipe!”

“What did I buy Jimmy for his 10th birthday?” 

Michael was taken aback. 

He wrinkled his brows. Anytime someone asked about the kids he felt like dying, he didn’t fucking know what their favourite colors even were growing up. He didn’t even know the name of their fucking schools. 

“Bro…”

“Dont bro me! Think hard, Mikey, think! You use that brain of yours to come up with hundreds of lies per day, so try to find some fucking decent memories in there!”

Michael thought hard. God it was such a haze. Where were they even living when Jimmy was 10? What fake name did they go by? He couldn’t do it, he was too drained he told himself. 

“I don't know, alright I’m a shitty fa--”

“DON'T make this about you, Mikey!” Trevor shot.

He sat back down, against the headboard of his bed. His wet socks making the blanket wet too. “You forgot Jimmy’s birthday. Because Amanda got pneumonia, and had to stay in the hospital. You couldn’t afford it, not even with what we got from the score before that. So you left, for days, you left your kids in a one bedroom apartment, and Uncle T watched ‘em.”

Michael shut his eyes. It came back to him. He was robbing convenience stores and banks and whatever he could manage on his own. He didn’t sleep for days. 

“So what did I get Jimmy?”

“You didn’t get him anything” Trevor said solemnly, “But, when the kids were asleep, I stole him a new bike. Wrapped it as pretty as I could with newspaper, and you came home later that night and just passed out on the couch. I brought Jimmy outside in the morning and told him you were gone because you were getting him that fucking bike, and then I taught him how the fuck to ride it. And he was so fucking  _ happy  _ Michael, that his dad loved him so much that he remembered, that you  _ fucking  _ remembered to do the  _ bare minimum. _ ”

“I know i’m a shitty parent, T, what's your fucking point i’m burning on fumes here”

“I  _ knew _ you wouldn’t remember, because you were terrified of Amanda dying and you having to take care of the kids and you were terrified of what would happen if she left you. So I did my fucking best and raised those kids like my own whenever the fuck you and your wife debated abandoning them. Because I knew you were doing the best you could and I knew sometime’s you’d fuck up and Amanda wouldn’t fucking help. Because I knew you so fucking well. And you don't know  _ shit  _ about me because you don't fucking care!”

Michael looked away and rubbed his eyes. Trev always got heated when Amanda’s name was in the conversation. Michael didn’t want to think about her, he’d probably have to go out and shoot something to feel better. So he sat in silence.

Trevor let out a sad chuckle, rolling over on his side, his forehead against the wall. “Also in addition to the millions of Michael Townley facts I got: You’re afraid of the dark. You can leave the fucking light on.”

 

“...When you’re mad, mainly at yourself, or sad, you bang your head against the wall” Michael said after ten minutes of silence.

“How’d you chalk that up sugar tits? The holes? In the... _ walls?? _ ” Trevor goated on, barely lifting his head to look at Michael.

“No, because I’ve watched you do it. Not just in the most recent month you crash landed in my life again, but...a long time. And you told me, that you’ve been doing that since you were a kid. And the only person who could get you to stop banging your head was your mom-”

Trevor shot up and was pointing his fingers again, Michael could see the possible rampage brewing. “You better put those FUCKING words back in your mouth you gutless fuckwad! Don't you fucking mention her!” He screamed. 

“Will you let me finish?” He sighed. Michael crawled farther onto the bed, and slowly, gingerly, put his hand on Trevor’s dirty hair as if it were a proximity bomb. “She’d hold you. And then later when she wasn't...around...And you met me...I did. I held you. And sometimes you’d start crying if you weren't already. You’d apologize for things that ain't your fault. Sometimes you’d fall asleep like that and then I’d let you sleep up against me. And we’d stay like that for hours until you calmed down or woke up. You would pretend that it didn't happen, but later on in the day you’d say ‘thanks sugar tits’ and that was how it went”

Trevor was quiet again. Michael was ready to give up, fuck it, sleep on the couch whatever. Then, Trevor’s hand grabbed Michael’s. His hands were always so warm, but his body was always so cold. “That's not a great example of  _ knowing me,  _ Michael. But, yeah.”

“Yeah”

Surrendering, Trevor laid down facing Michael, gripping his hand in both of his. Michael chuckled, laying down next to him, “You want me to spoon you tonight, T?”

“Fuck you, Townley” Trevor groaned as he buried his face in Michael’s shirt, audibly inhaling his smell like Michael had with his blanket. 

Michael wrapped his arms around Trevor, and couldn’t sleep. But he held him, in case he felt out of control in his dreams, Michael would be there to hold him so he wouldn’t bang his head against the wall.


	2. Interim: Field Trip

Franklin road down the dust road resting his forehead against the palm of his hand. He’d stopped at Michael’s place, but it was weird. He hadn't been there since his whole family left, and it still felt...wrong to be there. Franklin had seen Michael pretty much at his worst by this point, but seeing his home in this state felt so personal, like he was seeing the part of him he didn’t want Franklin to know about. 

The house smelled like rotting pizza and spilled whiskey. He could see the flies circling around his half-eaten pizza boxes and a thin layer of mold growing a top the green smoothie he left on the coffee table in the living room. 

On the floor he could see all of the smashed photos, the De Santa’s when they were happy, when they were by another name. Franklin wondered if these pictures were staged, none of Michael’s family were happy or normal. Maybe these were taken in the two second intervals between shitstorms where everything was okay. It still felt fake to him.

He made his way upstairs to Michael’s bedroom. He remembered sneaking through this house before to repossess his son’s car. Now he was walking through it getting Michael’s clothes and to drive his car out to the desert. Hard to believe that their relationship had gone from a gun to Frank’s head, to Michael expressing genuine concern over him not wearing a bulletproof vest.

Michael’s bedroom was no better than the rest of the house. The bed was trashed but looked more like a seat to watch the TV, with all of these disc boxes on top of the blankets and the pillows thrown on the ground. Michael’s nightstand was riddled with sleeping pills he’d given up on, cigarettes he couldn’t let go of. On the ground there were also more broken photographs, different ones, ones of Michael and his wife. Franklin kneeled down to look at one, a young Michael with his then girlfriend Amanda. He was holding her waist and kissing her cheek, she was laughing and holding his face against her’s. On the back of the photo it read,  _ “Liberty City, 1990” _ . 

_ Why even keep these? They hated each other, what’s the point?  _ Then Frank remembered the millions of photos of him and Tanisha at his house, and quickly put the thought away. 

The closet was just as much a mess, Michael’s clothes thrown all around the walk in room. There was a clear gap between Michael’s clothes and a set of empty hangers that once held Amanda’s things. Frank started folding some clothes and putting them in a black duffle bag he brought from home. Michael had the weirdest aesthetic, like he was an old Vinewood actor but then he had this unadulterated collection of floral shirts and obnoxiously loud shorts. Franklin remembered coming over to Michael’s house once and found him dressed up in a suit just to watch TV, he didn’t even know he was coming over. Frank tried to pack an even number of both types of outfits, along with socks and underwear.

He grabbed the hoodie that Michael had instructed him to grab. He didn’t want the cash, he liked money but this was like giving a rich kid a dollar and expecting him to really care about it. 

Michael needed whatever cash he had now, especially since most of the ATM’s out in buttfuck nowhere were usually bugged or had a methed up redneck hiding around the corner with a knife.

He packed the hoodie in the bag along the side of the clothes, that was when he found another picture. 

It was under the set of drawers, otherwise completely hidden except for the white corner that caught Frank’s eye. He sat down against the drawers and grabbed the photo, the back read  _ “Sugar tits and fuck face, Alberta 1990” _ in faded red sharpie. He turned it over, a young Trevor and Michael were captured in it. Michael was kissing the sides of Trevor’s lips, while Trevor stuck out his tongue and had his middle finger up. Frank chuckled looking at them, it was weird to look at them like this. It was like how the house was, this was the Trevor and Michael that Frank wasn’t suppose to see. They always joked that they were his dads, but he never saw them close like this. They were always at eachothers throats, but this was before 2004, before the last Heist, before the worst thing that could ever happen did and no one wanted to tell Franklin.

They looked so young. Michael was without a single wrinkle, you could see the outline of his strong jaw and his strong young hands. Trevor looked healthy, it was before all of the drugs, he looked like he slept, ate, and acted like a human being. Most of his tattoo’s yet existed except for the scorpion on his right hand. Michael had described him and Trev when they were younger. That Michael was the burned out jock who peaked in highschool and took his anger out on the world, and Trev was the army reject who listened to Punk until it shook the walls. It was hard to imagine them young, so this was particularly eye opening. Especially since there wasn’t anything hateful in this picture, it was just two boys against the world, captured like that forever. It made Frank feel a little sad to think about.

Franklin imagined if Amanda came home and found this. He barely knew the woman, but he saw the lipstick on the mirror, heard that she ran away with her french Yoga instructor. She hated Trevor, he knew that, she  _ detested  _ him just as much as he did her. It would fuck everyone up collaterally if this photo was found by her. He tucked it in with Michael’s clothes, and then reached under the dresser to see if there were anymore secrets for him to hide.. 

Once he was done he went to the garage to get in Michael’s car. Jimmy had stolen Mikey’s car when he drugged him and left him by the side of the road. Now he had a beat up black sedan, that looked like before it became Michael’s personal getaway car it was where Tracey and Jimmy would fight in the backseat and Amanda and Michael would bicker in the front. 

He grab the keys off the rack near the door and clicked the locks open. The sedan was more beat up inside, with cigarette buds on the dash and CD’s thrown on the passenger side. He put his keys in the ignition, and Los Santos Rock was on.  _ I Wouldn’t Want to be Like You,  _ was blasting out the speakers. 

_ Shit, if there wasn’t a more ironic song,  _ Franklin thought. 

 

Franklin always liked driving. When he learned to drive, it was his way out of his fucked up home life with his aunt. He could go anywhere once he knew how to drive, and he still spent most of his time doing it now.

In particular he liked to drive down the highway, just listening to his music, the windows rolled down. Sometimes if Lamar or someone else was in the car they’d sing along to the song playing, or if Chops was there he’d bark at random points. He loved driving, it cleared his mind, it made him feel like maybe someday things would get better for him. 

But now he wasn’t relaxed. He was thinking about Michael and Trevor, and how far away they were. They were already always at eachother’s throats, and he didn’t put it past either of them to kill the other one. 

He didn’t think that one was worse than the other. Trevor was open about how fucked he always felt, Michael tried to hide it. But they were the same person, its just that Michael would grin as he stabbed you in the back, Trevor would stab you in the eye so you’d know.

Because of this, he didn’t trust either of them alone. They were staying with Martin’s wife, which was another thing. He knew how Trevor was about older women, and Frank was pretty sure that he’d seen Martin’s side squeeze before because Michael pulled her house off a cliff. If Trevor knew about that, and it made Patricia cry, fuck, maybe they wouldn’t be in exile all that long.

Frank pulled into Sandy Shores, rolling up the windows of the sedan and putting his gun on the dashboard. He already didn’t trust the pretentious rich white people in the Vinewood hills, and the hillbillies in Sandy Shores weren’t any different. 

He pulled up to Trevor’s trailer and parked along the fence. Michael was drinking a beer, wearing his boxers and a wife beater. Trevor was throwing glass bottles across his fence into the parking lot next door.

“Hey Franky!” Michael called, standing up from the porch and waving his arm. He jogged over to the car and gave Franklin a tight squeeze when he got out of the car. 

“Shit dude, you smell like gasoline, what the fuck happened?” Frank asked, lightly pushing him away. 

“Don't you  _ fucking  _ start, Mikey!” Trevor yelled as he walked over to join them. Trevor was wearing his bright pink  _ Pussycat  _ tank top and camo cargo pants with what was definately Michael’s aviator shades. 

“You know Frank, stick to speed and weed. Don't be like this  _ fucker,  _ smelling Gas and then spilling it all over me when I tell him to fucking cool it” Michael instructed, putting an arm around Franklin. 

“Are you fucking serious, man?  _ Gas? _ ” Franklin sighed

“Frank don't you follow in Michael’s footsteps,  _ he’s  _ the cockroach sleeping in  _ my  _ bed!”

He remembered the photo, wondering if he should bring up that he found it. Trevor would probably get confused or angry or depressed if he heard about it, so Frank decided to drop it.

He popped the trunk and handed Michael his duffle bag. “I couldn’t find your toothbrush so I went and bought you a new one on my way here, you like blue right?”

Trevor laughed, “You brush your teeth Michael?”

He shot Trevor a glare, taking the dufflebag. He ignored him, turned back to Frank “Thanks kid, you’re good. Sorry you had to drive all the way out here, I appreciate it.”

“Hey no problem, but uh…” He looked at Trevor whose eyes were wide now that Michael had decided to ignore him. 

“ _ Sugar tits,  _ you brush your teeth?” he repeated

Michael continued ignoring him. “I’d invite you in the trailer but, I ain't trying to get you infected with some airborne virus that exists only in the Philips trailer”

“ _ Michael _ ”

Frank was obviously uncomfortable, he laughed “Yo dude, you brush your teeth?”

“Hm? Course I do. Did you grab the cash in my hoodie?” 

Trevor was fuming, his fists were balled up and he was breathing hard. Franklin was already bracing himself for what was going to happen. 

“If you brush your teeth, Mikey” Trevor said in a low growl as he started to back up, “Then it must be your head that stinks from being so far up your ass,  _ you shit eater! _ ”

Then Trevor ran at Michael like a bull and tackled him to the ground. Michael and Trevor started fighting on the dust ground, grunting and yelling at each other. “You know T, if I  _ didn’t know anything about you,  _ I’d think you had a crush on me!”

“Fuck you Michael! Fuck you!” he yelled grabbing a fistful of his shirt and slamming Michael’s head against the ground. Michael was just laughing, squeezing Trevor’s dirty hair in between his hands and holding onto the sides of Trev’s shirt. 

Franklin awkwardly stood there, scratching his head. He went on his phone to check his Lifeinvader. 

A few seconds later, Michael and Trevor stopped tumbling, they were both on their sides now, still holding something of the other. Michael head Trev’s shirt, and Trevor was now squeezing on Michael’s ear. “ _ Fuck we’re old, dude _ ” Michael panted

“That's just you, sugar tits” Trevor added, “Speed keeps me in the best shape of my life”

Michael laughed, letting go of him and standing up. He faced Franklin again while Trevor continued laying on the ground, contemplating if he should take a nap. “You wanna get a beer while you’re in town man?”

He was thinking about Chops at home. Probably shitting in the pool again as vengeance since Frank had left him alone since the morning. “I should be getting home man, Chops you know”

Michael nodded, dialing in the Taxi number. “Alright well, seriously Kid, you come out here whenever. There’s nothing to do except watch Trevor run around in circles like a fucking animal”

“Fuck you buddy” Trevor groaned, turning around on his side and laying down on his arm. 

 

After Franklin left, Michael left Trevor out on the side of the road. To his credit, he did try to get him to sit up, but Trevor was already snoring. 

He went inside and put his duffle bag on the bed to take stock of what Franklin brought him.

Shirts, pants, underwear, shaving bag, deodorant, phone charger, and some balls of cash he left in his pockets. All of his guns were in the backseat of his sedan, minus his pistol which he kept on him like normal people would a phone.

As he took stock of his clothes he found the picture tucked away under the clothes. He frowned, he knew what it was. 

It was that picture he took of him and Trev years ago,  _ fuck  _ they were just kids when he took that photo. 

He looked at that photo when he needed to somehow feel even worse about how he fucked over Trevor Philips. They use to be attached at the hip, even when he started going out with Amanda he’d call Trevor to ask if he wanted to hang out when she was gone too long in the ladies room. 

He didn’t understand how Trevor hadn’t killed him yet. For ten years he fantasized Trevor killing him, it would be a welcome relief to all of the guilt and self hatred he otherwise lived with. When he floated in his pool, he imagined Trevor drowning him. When he made his smoothies, he imagined Trevor slitting his throat. Driving a car? What if Trev shot his tires off and Michael crashed into a telephone pole and went flying through the windshield. He knew that was a horrible thing to think about, normal people don't think about things like that. But he did, all the time. He always felt like Trevor would be the one to kill him, even when they were okay, he knew that Trevor would be the one to kill him, the method just changed in Michael’s head every few years. 

When Trevor waltzed through his front door when Tracey ran away to go on Fame or Shame, he imagined Trevor shooting everyone in the room but Michael. He’d tackle him to the ground and put his bony hands around his throat. He’d growl as he squeezed, his face red with crazed anger and pain. Michael would dig into the sides of Trevor’s throat with his finger nails, grabbing onto a piece of him as he slipped into the void. 

He felt his dick twitch in his pants and he put his palm against his face.  _ Get it together, Townley  _ he said, embarrassed that he was like this. 

Trevor strolled through the Trailer, greeting Patricia with his usual adoration. “Patricia Madrazo! I’m in love! I worship the ground you walk on!”

“Silly boy” Patricia chuckled as she cleaned the dishes. She looked at Trevor briefly, to which he slammed his fists to his heart and let out a squeaking noise. 

“Sup bro, looking at Amanda’s tits the only way you can now?” He asked sitting on the bed. He was gonna shoot up, he was reaching into his drawer, the thought made Michael’s blood run cold. 

“No, dick. I uh...here” He sat down next to Trev and showed him the photo.

He lifted a brow, flipping the photo to read the back before looking at it again. “Why’d you keep that? You masturbate to it?”

“Jesus christ, T” Michael groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose. “No, I just...I use to look at it, when everything got to be too much.”

“Oh boo hoo my dick is wet in hooker pussy, my pool is too big for me, my tennis court is so lonely” Trevor snorted. He handed the picture back over, unzipping his bag. 

“You know, I think this was before you started doing the hard shit” Michael said, “You look so...I dont know, not normal but--”

“Not disgusting? An abomination? A meth fiend monster??” Trevor chuckled taking out a pill bag of white dust. It relieved Michael a little, he didn’t want to see him shoot up, it made him feel like he was a guilty party in the whole Trevor Philips Addiction Story. 

“Why’d we have to grow up? It feels like after I took this, everything started going wrong.”

“You  _ chose  _ to marry her, Mikey” Trevor said grabbing a mirror out of his nightstand. He poured the powder onto the flat surface and looked through his wallet for his fake credit card. 

“Yeah, why the fuck did I do that?” Michael breathed. “They’re better without me. They all hate me, and for good reason. I never grew up, I was just a kid raising kids and my wife stayed age appropriate and I just stayed twenty two”

Trevor snorted, “If you’re calling yourself a twenty year old, I must be a fucking baby compared to you. I stopped growing when I was five, killed my first man.”

He arranged the coke into four lines, Michael watched him work. Trevor was always so shaky, his brain was too addled from the Meth to sit still. But some things he did with so much finesse, so much care and grace. It hypnotized him. “First man you killed was the guy on the runway” Michael corrected, “I  _ know _ you.”

Trevor didn’t respond. He just rolled up a dollar bill and snorted the two fine lines. After he grabbed his nostrils, shaking his head, letting out a grunt. Michael watched him, imagined licking what was left of the power from his nose and kissing him hard.  _ Fucking shit head _ he thought to himself.

Trevor handed the mirror over to Michael who didn’t argue.

“Yeah, the fucker on the runway. Can't believe I popped my murder cherry for you, lard ass” Trevor groaned. He listened to Michael snort the coke, watching how he took it all in one big inhale. When he finished he let out a short grunt, slapping his chest. 

Trevor grabbed his face and turned him towards him. Michael didn’t pull away, hoping he’d kiss him. Instead he licked the residual coke left on his nose, and laughed that low menacing laugh he had. “You know, as much as you hate me Michael Townley, I don't regret killing that guy.”

“Oh yeah? Ever think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shot him?” Michael asked coyly, not expecting an answer, but it came anyway.

“Nope. I don't think i’d be alive without you sugar tits. I need someone to hate as much as I hate you”

“Bite me”

He did, his nose actually. Michael snapped, pushing him away, “Fuck dude! You’re gonna give me a nasal infection.”

“Its called love sweet cheeks” Trevor joked, standing up to leave, “and there ain't no cure”

“Then I’ll just have to kill myself” Michael chuckled.

“Not without me fuck face!” 

 

After the coke started to kick in, Michael and Trevor drove around Sandy Shores in T’s Bodhi. The sun had already set, and the sky was a brilliant blue velvet speckled with stars stretching for miles. Michael hadn’t seen stars in so long, Los Santos and all of its light pollution made sure to drown them out every night. In truth Michael couldn’t tell if it was being in the desert or the coke that made the stars look so gorgeous but it made him feel so small in the universe.

He turned his head, Trevor was driving the truck with one hand on the wheel, the other hanging on the side of the truck. He was still wearing sunglasses even though the sun had long since set. It was then that he noticed that those were his Ponsoby’s aviators, the ones he paid such a fortune on just because he could. As he realized this he began to slowly fall over onto Trevor’s shoulder, reaching for the sunglasses. 

“Whoa there tiger” Trevor snorted as the car swerved down the highway.

_ Hotel California  _ was playing, Michael fucking adored this song. It played the first time him and Trevor kissed, but it didn’t hold any romantic feelings to it. It was just a song about them, from two boys trying to survive to two men ruined from the life they’d lived. They both still loved the beat, all feelings aside. “Give ‘em back, you fuck” Michael grumbled. 

Trevor pushed his face away, Michael landed back against the truck door. He watched Trevor drive through the clear desert night, wind blowing through his thinning hair.  _ How’d we get this old? _ He asked himself. He couldn’t believe they were in their forties, they were just kids. When Michael saw Trevor’s side profile as he drove, the mountains slowly passing by, he still saw the kid who still had blood on his cheeks after shooting a man with a flare gun.  _ We were just kids, I did that to him, I did that.  _

They passed over a small bridge when Trevor turned around, humming along to the sweet melody that bled into the night. “Where are we goin’?” Michael asked

“You said you wanted to go for a drive and  _ your wish is my command,  _ sugar” 

Coke made Michael sentimental, he thought about how sweet Trevor was under all that grime. Sure he’d gladly beat someone’s brains in with a baseball bat and then sleep with their wife only to steal their car in morning with their livelihood in the trunk. But he also wore socks because he didn’t want to wake anyone up when he went outside to huff paint, he’d purposely play the cassette his passenger’s liked, and he would go on night drives for however long Michael needed.

“What went wrong with my life to end up like this, T?”

“Hm, let's go down the list: You double crossed your best friend, moved to the fakest city in the world, stopped caring about your kids, your wife, started blaming everyone for your problems,  _ oh!  _ And you died inside when you faked our death”

“Poetic, T. Really, it is.”

“You ain't the same, man.”

“Oh yeah, since you’re such an expert you tell me how”

Trevor pulled the car over onto the dirty beach along the Alamo Sea where the sand mixed with mud to form this ungodly sludge. “You use to not give a fuck, man! Fuck, rob a gas station on the way to a bank heist. Snort coke and get wet and wild with a couple of girls behind a bar. Punch a guy in the face, steal his car and his dog” Trevor enthused, “Now you’re just...I don't even know who you are. ‘De Santa’, I guess”

“Yeah well, sorry I didn’t want to stay white trash, alright T?” He was trying to reach for his shades again but Trevor pushed him away. “Y’know what, T, you ain't the same either alright? You changed too”

“Oh yeah, I became a business entrepreneur, went back to my roots, stopped trusting liars to be any help” Trevor sneered, “So tell me Michael,  _ how  _ have I changed? Because when I look in the mirror I still see me”

Michael shook his head,  _ If you looked like that when we were twenty I wouldn’t have gotten in your fuckin’ plane.  _ “You’re an asshole, course that was always the truth, but now you’re just a fucking scumbag”

“Oh yeah? Tell me more, don't mind me, just reminiscing the time I cried over your grave over here”

“You treat Ron like shit because you can't  _ stand  _ yourself, and you hate me because I don't let you do that to me”

“I treat Ron like a  _ man.  _ Ron is loyal, and it's because of  _ me! _ ”

“He’s  _ loyal,  _ because you abuse him!” Michael shouted. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette but Trevor yanked it out of his hands and threw it on the ground. Trevor was leaning over Michael, his hand in between Michael’s spread apart legs. 

“ _ I’m  _ loyal, because  _ you  _ abused me!”

Michael breathed, him and Trevor in another staring match. “I did not”

“Oh yeah?” Trevor threw himself back in his seat, sarcastically laughing. “You would  _ purposely  _ leave me to see if I’d follow. You would ignore me just to see how long until I started yelling! You did that because you  _ knew  _ I had nobody and you  _ knew  _ I’d always come crawling back, you fuckwit!”

Michael wasn’t going to lie to himself. When he was younger, he did pull that kind of game. He was use to being abandoned, his father left him, his mother locked him out of the house once he dropped out of high school. All his friends either forgot him when he started pulling heists or died. But Trevor was a constant, and sometimes he liked to jerk the chain just to see if he followed. He wasn’t an angel, he was horrible but he knew it was wrong.  _ Still don't make it right.  _

“I...I’m sorry” he murmured as he ducked his head into his palm. “Alright?”

“Hm? Sorry I can't hear you!” Trevor yelled as he turned up the stereo to max, “Gotta speak up Mikey boy!”

Michael reached over grabbing Trevor’s hand, turning the volume down to a whisper. “ _ You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave _ ” were sung into the night.

“I’m sorry” Michael repeated. He was inches from Trevor's face, staring into those eyes who’d seen too much, forced to grow up too soon. They were tired now, despite how deeply Trevor slept, he was always exhausted. 

“I don't forgive you” Trevor smacked Michael’s hands away, putting his hands back on the wheel. He turned the gas and attempted to go in reverse, but the Bodhi refused. Under them all that could be heard was the sound of wet goop hitting the dry area behind them. “ _ God damn it! _ ” Trevor cursed. 

Before he could see a tantrum starting, Michael got out. “You coming?”

“Look Michael, I know you don't have any god damn respect for my things, but I actually  _ like  _ this hunk of shit okay? And I don't abandon  _ my shit.  _ Not like you would know”

“You callin’ yourself shit, T?” Michael chuckled as he walked around to the front of the car, easily seeing Trevor going ahead and running him over. 

“Fuck you, sugar tits”

 

It took them half an hour to make any progress out of the muck before they started hitting some dry dirt. The coke had worn off and both of them were feeling weak and irritated. Trevor had taken his keys out of the engine, abruptly stopping Hotel California’s fourth loop dead in its tracks fifteen minutes prior. Now all that filled the night was the sound of distant dirt bikes, screams of possible murder, and two middle aged men desperately trying to get their truck out of the muddy sand of the Alamo Sea.

“So tell me again, why the hell did you think that driving your fucking truck into wet sand would be a good idea?” Michael panted as he strained to push the truck.

“Fuck I don't know! You think I know why I do half of the shit I do?”

“Because you want to and have no impulse control?”

“Fuck you”

The problem with Michael and Trevor was that random encounters had to be a competition. Both of them were dead exhausted, Trevor was still recovering from jumping out a plane, and Michael wasn’t use to this kind of movement. But neither of them were going to let up until the other one gave up, at which the winner would gloat and the loser would tell them to suck their dick. The winner would attempt awkwardly to be seductive and ask if they meant it, the loser would spit on their shoes. 

At least when they were younger that was how it would’ve gone. But now both of them were nearly ready to keel over. “Alright...Alright, look, I don't need you gettin’ a fuckin’ heart attack on me, lard ass” Trevor breathed as he began to let up on the car hood. 

“Aw c’mon I could...go all...shit” Michael held his side, trying to force himself to push again. “What happened to speed making you in the best shape of your life, Trev?”

“I’m forty eight years old, alright Michael? At least I  _ admit  _ I’m getting too old for this kind of shit”

Michael gave up. He grabbed his sides, resting his forehead against the hood of the truck. “You ain't that old” he panted.

“See, that's the kind of shit that's gonna get you killed for real, Townley” It was always ironic when Trevor talked about death or health, as if he could at all attest to a healthy lifestyle of methamphetamines and gun fights. “See, I already got my shit  _ figured out! _ So now I just gotta worry about making it to fifty and I am  _ smooth.  _ You on the other hand look like you’re about to keel over and have a major fucking heart attack”

Trevor sat himself up on the hood of his truck, offering a hand for Michael to climb on up. “What happens at fifty? You disappear even more off the grid?” Michael asked as he hoisted himself up on his own.

“Oh, no, see I got it  _ planned.  _ Since, y’know, you fucking left, I had to start thinking smart, what was I gonna do? Well I for one, am going to hop on one of my planes, ride it out into the ocean, wait til the gas runs out and…” The way he trailed off, the  _ ‘and…’  _ meant he wasn’t actually completely sure. Michael saw it on his face. Trevor talked a lot but he wasn’t serious, he couldn’t be. Fifty was too young as far as Michael was concerned, although maybe it was because it was just two short years away. 

“You’re talking out your ass” 

“You know thats the fucking problem with you. Y’know I open my home up to you, let you shit in my toilet, sleep in my bed, I  _ bare  _ my soul out to you and what do you say?  _ Herr herr you talkin’ out yer ass,  _ well fuck you”

Michael wiped the sweat from his brow. He hadn’t worked this hard in a while, and he’d been out of retirement for a few weeks now. “I’m sorry” he apologized again, already knowing Trevor wouldn’t accept it.

“Do you know why that's not enough? Do you even care?” He asked.

“Because I’m an asshole?”

“Yes, but  _ jesus christ,  _ can you think more globally for five seconds?” Trevor scoffed, shaking his head. He took out his phone, Michael glanced at the screen to see him texting Ron to get out there with a tow truck and pull them home. 

“I said I’m sorry, alright? I don't wanna talk about you dyin’ alright?”

“You keep saying ‘I’m sorry’ like that means something. Your words ain't got no meaning because  _ you  _ take it away.” Trevor explained, “You aren’t sorry, you don't care. You  _ want  _ me dead, I know it. You could at least have the fucking  _ balls  _ to admit it”

Michael bit his lip. He was so tired, he’d barely done anything today besides push the Bodhi down a flat mud trail. He didn’t want to fight, he never did, not with Trevor. “I don't want you dead, T, I just… _ Fuck! _ ” He stood up, pacing around in a small circle wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Trevor wasn’t wrong. Part of the Ludernoff plan was that Trevor would die along with Brad, but Michael didn’t want to think about what psychotic depressive episode he was in to want Trevor dead. At least now he was healthy enough to know he wasn’t going to explain to Trevor that ten years ago he actively planned his murder, especially since now the very thought of Trevor dying naturally killed him.   “I don't  _ know  _ how to be sentimental anymore, alright? I don't know how the fuck to say it, but I’m fucking sorry. I...I don't wanna talk about you fuckin’ dying because...because it reminds me of what I did, the shitty, stupid thing I did. And we lost ten years and, I don't want  _ it  _ to end, okay?”

Trevor pouted, looking down to watch his legs swing off the side of the hood. “ _ It  _ ended when you left me behind a bar” he spat.

“I know...I fucking  _ know _ ” Michael walked back to Trevor, trying to put his hands back on him. Trevor sprang up, gripping Michael’s hands, pushing him back with all his strength.

“ _ Don't  _ you  _ fucking touch me, Townley _ ” He growled.

“Trevor, I don't know how fucking long I’m stranded out here but...I don't want to be an asshole, alright? Let me make up for lost time, okay? Let me  _ try  _ to make things better!” 

“You ain't  _ stranded  _ here, M. You’re choosing to stay here. You could go out to Paleto Bay, hell, you could go the fuck back to North Yankton. But you’re staying with me because it's cheap and easy a--”

“I’m staying with you because I fucking want to!” Michael shouted, his words echoed against the sound of the highway, the possible murders happening in the distance. 

“You ain't never gonna make it up to me, M. You...You left me, alright? You left me and I had nothing and you  _ knew that!  _ And I will never forgive your  _ sorry  _ ass for that”.

“You don't have to” Michael sighed. He walked back to the truck, leaning against the grill of the hood. He left a cigarette in between his lips as he searched for a lighter, but Trevor already had his out. Michael glanced at Trevor for a second, looking at how the moonlight shined on his cheekbones. “Thanks”

“Whatever. Those things’ll kill you”

“Not that you care, right?” Michael chuckled.

They shared a silence as Michael smoked his cigarette, the two of them watching the tiny waves hit the shore so quietly. “I don't think I could do what you did, T” Michael admitted, turning his head to look at Trevor who was keeping his head facing the water.  _ God he’s so fucking beautiful.  _ “If you died, I think that’d be it for me.”

“Blah blah blah” Trevor whined 

“I’m serious, If you’re goin’ at fifty I better be on that fuckin’ plane with you.”

“So you’re tellin’ me that you wanted me dead for ten years, but you’d  _ die  _ if I died?” Trevor was laughing at the absurdity of it. He couldn’t imagine Michael doing something like that for him, he wouldn’t even trust him to flush the toilet, let alone die for him. 

“T, I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. I mean, through talk therapy, drugs, all this  _ fucking  _ free time for ten years...I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. But if I found out that you’d just...fuck...I couldn’t do it.”

“Oh yeah? Y’know what, if you’re so sure about that, then tell me the truth about Yankton. Why’d you do it?”

Michael spat it out like a robot, “For my family”

Trevor rolled his eyes. It was always that excuse, both of them knew it was a lie, even Michael’s family knew that was a lie. Michael lied so easily now, it was just second nature. Whether or not Trevor could tell if what Michael said was true or not had become blurred, but Trevor knew that whatever Michael did wasn’t for his family.

“Look...T, okay...here’s a fucking Trevor Philips fact, alright?”

Trevor laughed, leaning against the hood of the car, resting his hand on his knee. “Sure thing, cowboy. Lets test that self absorbed brain of yours then, i’m listening.” 

Michael licked his lips taking a long drag of his cigarette. “You got your first tattoo, that scorpion, during your last stay at juvie. You got it done in the bathrooms, and you told the guy who did it why you wanted it, and only him. After you got out you waited a few months, and then you found him and beat him within an inch of his life, you kept one of his teeth. You did it because you didn’t want someone to know why”

Trevor laughed, “Oh boy, Michael can remember one of the hundreds of memories of Trevor Philips doing what he  _ fucking wants. _ ”

“You got that scorpion because you felt like you were poison. You’d gone through eight dads, three different foster homes, two correctional facilities, and nothing ever stayed. You said that you thought you were poison, and people were scared just from looking at you. You said you were a scorpion” 

Trevor huffed, avoiding Michael’s gaze. “Why, oh why, did I trust you with that fuckin’ story”

“Because you love me” Michael chuckled, putting out his cigarette with the bottom of his shoe. 

“I’m not incapable of it” Trevor whispered that as if it was something he meant to keep inside, but Trevor wasn’t one for regrets. He rolled himself off the hood of the car as Ron pulled up in a beat up pick up truck, probably just stolen. Trevor waved his arms, shouting commands at Ron.

_ I’m not incapable of it. _ Michael kept the lighter, turning it over to see a fly drawn into it. 


	3. Paleto Bay Set Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is especially long, sorry about that. It's because there’s fucking in it. I'm not v good at writing smut so I apologize in advance but I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter.

“Your boyfriends Steve and Dave want to meet to suck dicks in  _ my  _ cookhouse, be there or I’ll fuck em both up the ass and then you’ll have no one for the prom, Sugar Tits” was what flashed in Michael’s face as he looked at his phone in the dark. He sat up from the bed and turned on the light, Trevor was gone. He saw that Steve and Dave had both called him multiple times, he groaned. Dave left a voicemail, he let it play as he threw a hawaiian shirt over his tank top and looked for some shorts to wear. 

_ “Michael, we need to talk. Bring Philips and meet us at his...kitchen, at 0500”  _ The message ended, followed by his phone asking if wants to delete it. He hit confirm delete. 

_ Fuck the FIB, fuck Trevor. All I wanted to do was retire and now I have to work for both psychos, fuck.  _

Trevor’s bedside clock flashed 3:30, he still had time to kill but would rather be early than late to a meeting with the federal shit bags. 

He snuck out the bedroom and passed Patricia who quietly slept in her bed, the television turned to an infomercial on a new revolutionary type of cooking pans.  _ God I wish that were me,  _ he lamented to himself.

 

On the drive out, Michael thought about the last few days. They were coming up on a week he’d spent with Trevor in buttfuck nowhere Sandy Shores, and he felt almost distressed that the little town was growing on him. The heat wasn’t so bad, it was at least cold at night. He barely slept but at least he had someone to hold while he tried. Franklin was safe, and as far as he knew, so was his family. 

What ate at him on this drive was the idea of staying in Sandy Shores too long. He’d never go back to LS if he stayed with Trevor too long. That always happened, whenever his family moved it was because Trevor left. Trevor left to see if Michael was still paying attention, and he was. Michael did this too, more than Trevor did, just to make sure Trevor still wanted him. He’d uproot his whole family to be within a thirty minute drive to see him. Later on they grew farther and farther apart, literally. By the time they did the heist on North Yankton, Michael lived three hours away from Trevor. Because he knew he wouldn’t able to follow through if he spent too much time with him. 

He was like a fucking addiction, a scratch he could never quite get rid of. He thought about Trevor constantly in the past ten years, and still now he was stuck on his brain. He wanted to hold him so tight that his ribs would crack against Trevors and he would just fucking die. Friedlander tried to explain to him that sexual fantasies involving him or the other party dying are extremely unhealthy and he needed to work on getting those out of his head. But he couldn’t, it got him hard thinking about Trevor just biting his nose earlier.

He pulled up to the cook house, he could hear Trevor blasting his hot jams out of the broken mirrors of the top floor. Michael recognized the song, it was Hole, Jennifer's Body specifically. 

He headed upstairs and found Trevor pissing in the corner of the room. Michael didn’t even need to take the room in before he sarcastically commented, “Wow, nice place Trev! Very nice!”

Trevor turned around, already pissed off. He tucked his dick back in his pants, turning to Michael. He started stomping over to him, asserting “Oh yeah, so easy to mock isn’t it? Cheap and fucking easy. But er, this here, this is my place. And my work,  _ paid  _ for my place!”

Inches from his face now, Michael avoided Trev’s eyes. He shook his head, as Trevor passed by him. “Alright relax I was just being sarcastic”

“Yeah well don't be, alright, the world has enough sarcasm. It's the blight of the age.”

“Yeah I get the point, T” Michael was tired. He had just risen out of a dead sleep to go and meet with his least favourite federal shitheads. 

“You don't get the point. You’re like every other asshole, you made a little bit of money, you became a turd” Trevor accused, looking Michael up and down.

“I got news for you, I was always a turd” Michael yelled.

“ _ Nooo!  _ You weren’t man! You were something! But now man, you’re, you’re like this place!” He gestured, “You’re a shell!”

“Go fuck yourself! Are you some kind of pure, morally justifiable asshole? What because you’re totally psychotic, that makes it okay?”

“I’m  _ honest.  _ You’re the hypocrite”

“Oh yeah you’re such a hero! So  _ FAR  _ above it all!”

“Oh yeah well i’m not above ripping open your fucking chest to see what's replaced your heart!” Trevor shouted, putting a finger to Michael’s chest.

Michael threw his arms open, taking a few steps back as Trevor did the same, “Rip it open! See what's there, baby! ‘Cause i’m ready!” 

Trevor was giving him that look again. The same one from when he crashed the Merryweather plane the first day back. The same fucking look, Michael loved. 

Trevor ran at him screaming, pushing him against the peeling wallpaper. “Do it!” Michael yelled, staring at Trev’s caramel brown eyes. 

Trev had his hands around Michael’s throat. He was so fucking ready, Michael was ready, just fucking end it Trev. No matter what Trev did next it was over for Michael, things were getting back to how they were and Michael was ready.

Trev kissed Michael hard, his eyes shut in pain over what he was doing. Michael grabbed the back of his head and kissed him back, opening his mouth to get Trevor to do the same. He complied, and then they were making out like a couple of teenagers. Michael felt his heartbeat in his ears, his lungs ache, he missed this.

Trevor bit Michael’s lower lip as he slid a hand under Michael’s shirt, putting his cold hands against Michael’s warm chest. He grabbed a fistfull of chest hair and let out a groan, and Michael held him tighter. He didn’t want Trevor to pull away, it’d been to long. He needed a fix, he needed Trevor, he wanted whatever Trevor would give him. 

He was melting in Trevor’s embrace, he grabbed Trevor’s fist under his shirt and let Trevor kiss his jaw, working his way down his neck onto his chest. Michael was breathing hard, he was gonna fucking lose it. He missed Trevor so much, he missed him so fucking much. Just his touch was fucking him up good, he was losing it. 

Trevor bit down on Michael’s nipple, Michael cried out “fucking weirdo”

Trevor looked up at him, “let me see what's inside, let me see, M”

Michael buckled his knee’s slowly falling to the ground, taking Trevor down with him. He wanted to make Trevor feel so good, he wanted to make Trevor cry with pleasure. Michael hated himself so fucking much, he just wanted to make Trevor love him like he did when they were kids. 

“Ow fuck!” Michael cried out, as he landed on the ground, a piece of a dead animal against his back, “Jesus christ dude”

“What you don't like it dirty?” Trev laughed. He was smiling now, but just as hungry as Mikey. He grabbed Michael’s cock through his shorts, growling as he went in to kiss Michael again.

That was when they heard Dave call up, “Hello?” up the stairwell.

Michael quickly moved himself away from Trevor, calling out “Up here!” He dusted himself off, turning to look and see if the unidentifiable mammal left any stains on his shirt. Trevor was still on the ground looking at Michael,  _ I’d fuck you in front of those FIB fucks  _ Trev thought to himself. 

He stood up and pulled Michael against his chest.  _ I’m gonna fucking see, I’m gonna tear it open,  _ Trevor thought. 

“Whoa, ladies, we interrupting?” Steve the douche called out.

“Fuck off!” Trevor shouted

“ _ Listen”  _ Dave droned. 

What followed was Dave explaining how the FIB was somehow piss broke so much so that they needed a couple of retired bank robbers to help them  _ again.  _ One was a somewhat suicidal narcist, the other was a drug addled psycho. Perfect pair.

Steve took over, “Its terrorism, the big one, nerve gas”

“Thank god I dont pay tax” Trevor mumbled.

“Now look you’ll need some fairly standard gear. Boat, tandem rotor heavy lift helicopter, truck, weapons” Dave continued. Michael sat up on one of the tables in the room, already massaging his temples as he listened. “Now the chopper will run you up a couple Mil alone”

“Hell! No worries there, Trevor just came into a lot of money. 

“Was that sarcasm, pal?”

“Oh you’re fucking A-right it's sarcasm, you  _ fuck. _ ” Trevor skulked back into himself a little. Didn’t he just have his tongue down Michael’s throat? He hated Michael so fucking much but loved him and his bullshit so much too. “A few weeks ago, I was happily retired, sulking by my swimming pool! And then my psychotic best friend shows up out of nowhere, to torture me over mistakes I made,  _ honest  _ mistakes, I made over a decade ago! We? Our little posse? Are flat. Fucking. Broke. But hey! Let's go spend a couple million dollars on a tandem rotor fucking chopper so I can go steal nerve gas from fucking terrorists! Forgive me, you ignorant  _ fuck,  _ but sarcasm is about all I fucking got! Sarcasm! And a room full of you cunts!”

As Michael ranted, Trevor stood with his mouth agape. He saw him, he saw a flash of Michael Townley. The kid who would hold a gun to the trucker who tried to stiff him and Trevor. The kid who one time jumped from the back of a pickup truck into Trevor’s arms on a freight train. Who didn’t take no for an answer, took risks like he breathed, lived everyday like it was his last. Trevor  _ saw  _ him, and as he morphed back into Michael De Santa, Trevor could still see him, and it made his heart swoon.

“ _ YEEEEEES! _ ” Trevor cheered throwing his arms up, cheering “Whoo! Welcome back man, it is the old you!” He wanted to grab Michael by the ass and swing him around the room, cheering his name. 

Dave sighed, Steve began making his way out, saying some shit that Trevor couldn’t hear over how fast his heart was racing at Michael’s whole spiel. 

“Now remember ladies, you keep us way out of this thing!” was all they heard. 

Michael rested against the table again, his mind already trying to come up with six different possible plans. “Oh jesus fucking christ” he whispered under his breath. “Alright, I’ll give Lester a fucking call.”

 

It was 5am, the sky was starting to go from pitch black to a soft blue as the sun prepared to rise again in the desert. Michael had called Lester who would be out in Paleto Bay in a few hours. Michael and Trevor powered down the highway in M’s black sedan, playing Michael’s Eagles' Greatest Hits CD. They were roughly one of the few bands that the two of them genuinely enjoyed together. Tim Shmit softly sang into the deserted morning road, “Look at us baby, up all night / Tearing our love apart”. Trevor called out, “Gaaaaaaay”

“Hey fuck you bro, it's a good song” Mikey defended.

“Its gay, bro.” 

They’d already talked about the score, Trevor told him about why it was  _ the  _ score while they were stuck out in the sticks. Trevor already talked shit about Lester and Michael already defended Lester. Now they were just driving down the highway, Trevor with his window open looked out at the sky.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about you Trevor. Your lifestyle”

“ _ Oh have you _ ? are you seriously going to try this again? I  _ run  _ a corporation built upon drugs, Mikey”

“Oh no, just how people always try to label you. You know? Maniac, psycho…”

“...Friend, Industry Leader”

“You know in some ways you defy categorization. But then…”

“ _ What? _ ”

“Well look at where you live.”

“Sandy Shores, you precious ass.  _ Sorry,  _ there ain't a place nearby for you to get your colonics”

Trevor’s fucking accent always fucked Michael up. He wanted to laugh when Trevor said ‘sorry’, the way he said it was so fucking Canadian it made him want to die of laughter but Trevor would probably kill him first.

“Right...But  _ why  _ are you out here?”

“The heat helps me forget how I was stabbed in the back and bled all over the snow in a place called North Yankton. Also, it's off the grid, away from it all. Its somewhere  _ real  _ and  _ authentic _ . This is America! And real people aren’t priced out yet. 

“Yeah well what if it gets gentrified?”

“Then i’ll  _ fucking _ move”

“Okay what about how you dress?”

“If this is about the dress, you knew twenty years ago I don't believe in gender bullshit that confines me to not let my junk run free in the wind under a delicate floral pattern! Besides, what about it? I don't give a  _ shit  _ what I wear.”

“No, no, no. If you don't give a shit, you wear clean clothes that fit. See yours are all a little out there, a little wacky.”

“Whatever’s in the shop is what I get, jesus w-what is this?”

“It's not an absence of taste, T,  it's the opposite.”

“ _ You  _ should be a stylist”

“And then there’s the tattoos, the hair, the weird music, the niche drugs, the funny toys, the  _ ev-er-y-thing. _ ”

“What the fuck are we talking about?”

“YOU...Are a hipster” Michael declared, that stupid grin on his face that made Trevor want to flay him alive because he knew he was talking bullshit.

“...What?”

“You’re a hipster” Michael repeated.

“I  _ hate  _ hipsters”

“Classic hipster denial”

“I  _ abhore _ hipsters, I eat them for  _ fun _ ” Trevor growled.

“Haha! Hipsters love saying they hate other hipsters”

“Well I really  _ FUCKING  _ do, Mikey!!”

“Self hatred, common hipster affliction”

“What because I live away from the bean machines and the bankers?”

“You may not the garden variety hipster, but you are what they aspire to be. You, Trevor Philips, are the proto-hipster! haha!”

“I...dont know what you’re talking about. I dont agree with what you’re saying. You’re talking bullshit. And you’re trying to wind me up. But I am very...very angry” He looked at the oncoming area beside the road for lovers and scenery lovers to park to admire the sunset, something that Trevor thought was stupid and a waste of fucking time. “I want this conversation to end right away. Pull over. Right now”

“Hipster”

“Fuck you! Fuck you Michael!” Were his last words before he unhooked his seatbelt, opened the car door, and rolled out of the moving sedan.

“Jesus fucking christ! T!” Michael called out, pulling over.

He ran out of the car, and saw Trevor pacing back and forth in the dirt. Michael grinned this sick smile at getting Trevor this pissed off, it was like poking a bear. He walked up to Trevor’s path and stood there with his hands in his pocket with that stupid grin. Trevor stopped in front of him, pure rage radiating from his body, “ _ Say it again _ ”

“You want that?” he teased

“Michael. I will  _ fucking  _ eat you”

“Yeah?” Michael smirked.

Trevor was already out of breath from his pure rage brewing inside of him. It spilled out as he grabbed michel by his shirt collar and pushed him. “Get in the fucking car, Michael”

Michael obediently did as he was told, smiling the whole time. Amanda was god knows where with the kids, Doc Friedlander was a quack and was just trying to make his next paycheck. He wanted Trevor, and he didn’t give a fuck what happened after.

He crawled in the backseat, sitting up against the door on the other side. Trevor got in and grabbed him by his hair and pulled him in for another sloppy wet kiss. They grabbed each other wherever they could. Trevor had one hand on Michael’s neck and the other on his chest. Michael put his hand in Trevor’s inner thigh, rubbing it and slowly moving it upwards towards his cock. He held Trevor’s strong jaw in the palm of his hand. 

“Hipster” he said into Trevor’s open mouth. Trevor bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood. He kissed the wound and then squeezed on Michael’s throat. 

“Suck my dick” 

Michael complied, he was smiling the whole time. He grabbed Trevor's pants and pulled them off, Trevor pulled Michael’s shirt off to see his chest. He wanted to see what was inside if it killed him.

Michael knew how to make Trevor feel good, he was the master at it. Before he even laid a hand on his cock he kissed the sides of his thigh, working his way down. When he did reach his cock, he kissed the tip so gently as he gripped the base. Trevor was smaller than Michael was, but his dick was wider than his. He was so hungry for it, but paced himself, he wanted Trevor to scream in pleasure and Michael wanted to savor him.

Above him Trevor was already panting, he was holding onto Michael’s thinning hair now and used his other hand to dig his nails into the car seat. 

Michael slowly wrapped his mouth around Trevor’s dick, quickly taking it all the base before retracting, leaving a trail of saliva that left Trevor’s dick cold. Michael went back to kissing it, pulling the foreskin back and licking the tip. He grabbed Trevor's balls and started to massage them before he put his mouth around his dick again.

Trevor was letting out a symphony of sounds, sounds he only made with Michael. Michael had seen Trevor fuck girls behind gas stations who wanted meth, he watched him fuck truckers in their motel room when they laid low. But Trevor only made these sounds with Michael, only Michael could make him feel like this. He belonged to Michael and Michael belonged to him.

Michael began to stare at Trevor as he worked, Trevor let his head hang back, his mouth open as Michael sucked. Trevor put his hand on Michael’s shoulders now, digging into the skin. He slowly started to move his hips, getting more momentum out of Michael. Michael took Trev’s dick out of his mouth and stroked it for a second, he whispered to Trevor, “You love me?”

“I love you so fucking much, you fucking shithead, you fucking liar” Trevor breathed, desperate to get Michael back on his cock. 

“You love me? I cant hear you” Michael said slowing his hand.

“God, you’re fucking  _ torturing me,  _ Mikey, fuck, I love you.” Trevor cried

“Tell me”

Trevor was about to cry as Michael wrapped his mouth around Trevor’s dick again. He cried out, “ _ Fuck,  _ you’re the only man I ever loved, Mikey. Fucking...You’re the only person ever I loved. Michael I’d fucking kill you if you left me again. Mikey, I’d kill myself. I’d kill myself in front of you so you’d remember me, remember how much I love you... _ fuck. _ ”

Michael’s dick was rock hard in his pants, he unzipped and began to stroke his cock as Trevor cried out into the car.

“Michael, I’d fucking kill your wife. I wanted to, so many times, Mikey. Michael I love you so much, I’d fucking murder her if I ever saw her again, she doesn’t deserve you... _ Fuck,  _ fuck, Mikey you fucking snake, you fucking psycho, I...love...you...I love you...I love you”

Trevor began to shake, his eyes rolled in the back of his skull as his eyelids fluttered. Trevor gripped the sides of Michael’s head forcing him down on his cock, relishing in Michael’s convulsions as he choked. But Michael loved it, he wanted to taste him, he wanted every bit of him. As Trevor came into his mouth, Trevor cried one last time, “ _ I fucking love you Townley _ ”

As Michael lifted his head up as he gasped for air, a long string of spit and cum stuck to Michael’s mouth and Trevors dick, not wanting to let go. Michael grabbed Trevor and kissed him, let Trevor taste his own cum in Michael’s mouth. He wiped the tears away from Trevor’s cheeks, kissed his forehead and whispered, “I love you too, shit bag”

Trevor slowly pulling himself up, grabbed Michael’s chest again. “Say it again”

Michael laughed, “Shit bag”

“You...know, you always know what fucking buttons to push. Say it”

Michael started laughing to himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stroked his cock. “Hipster”

“ _ FUCK _ ” Trevor cried, pushing Michael onto his back.

Trevor didn’t want to let Michael go. Fuck Lester, Fuck the FIB. He wanted to stay in the back of that sedan for the rest of his life. Forget about North Yankton, forget about flying, just focus on Michael, and never let him abandon him again. He buried his face in Michael’s chest, kissing his pecs before he began abusing his nipples again. He bit at them hard as he pinched the other. Michael grabbed Trevor’s free hand and put it to his mouth, letting Trevor feel where he bit him, letting him feel the inside of his mouth. 

Trevor locked eyes with Michael, like an animal waiting to pounce. He said in a low grumble, “Take your fucking pants off, sugar tits”

Michael complied. As he did Trevor took his shirt off, he wanted to be skin to skin with him. He wanted to melt into Michael until you couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.

He spat in his hand and massaged Michael’s asshole. Michael let out a gasp, shutting his eyes.  _ Fuck, he’s so fucking beautiful, old fuck he’s so fucking gorgeous  _ Trevor thought.

“T, its been a few years, I...uh…” Michael stammered. He didn’t want the moment to end, he didn’t want Trevor to think he was saying no. But he couldn’t help but worry a little bit, he wasn’t as flexible as he use to be. “I got a condom in the glove compartment, lubed up”

“Ooo Michael, look at you staying safe” Trevor winked. He crawled over to the front of the car, his ass right in front of Michael’s face. As Trevor rooted around in the front, Michael grabbed him from behind. “Whoa there cowboy!”

“Shut up T, keep lookin” 

Trevor looked behind him to try and see what Michael was up to. He could feel Michael pull apart his cheeks, stroking his asshole with his thumb. He collapsed onto the passenger seat, letting out a moan. Michael pulled him closer, sucking on one of his balls as he stuck a finger inside of Trevor. 

“Fucking,  _ shit,  _ Michael I just fucking came” Trevor groaned, 

Michael pulled his balls out of his mouth, “You want me to stop?”

“I said I  _ just  _ came, not to  _ stop _ ”

Michael chuckled, “Gotta be more specific T. What’d you want me to do, Hipster? Want more of this?” he stuck out his tongue licking Trevor’s asshole. Trevor breathed hard, shivering at Michael’s touch. 

“ _ Fuck,  _ this is what I call some quality time together” Trevor moaned.

Michael wrapped his lips around Trevor’s hole, sticking his tongue deep inside. Trevor was panting, with his hands clenched tight. As he breathed, Michael took his dick in his hands again, stroking it rhythmically with his tongue thrusts.

Trevor wasn’t terribly hard to get going, especially with Michael. All Michael needed to do was touch him in the right spot and he was already melting. As Michael worked on him from the back Trevor already felt himself sinking, it was too much for him to handle. He use to jerk off at night in his trailer at the  _ memories  _ of this very thing happening to him. He use to drink beer to try and forget how good Michael felt on his dick. He use to try and forget, to try not to cry, now it was happening again and he didn’t want it to end. 

He was red faced, his whole body shaking as he tried to hold it in. Michael felt him coming again, he could feel Trevor about to cry out, about to completely lose it again. He held him tighter, closer, as Trevor started to flutter, “I love you...f-fuck, I-I...love you... _ FUCK _ ”

Michael released his hold on Trevor as he came, his hand still wrapped around his dick. Trevor fell back into the backseat as Michael put his legs up, licking T’s cum off the palm of his hand.

Trevor didn’t talk, he just panted, his eyes shut. Michael didn’t want it to end, he wanted them to take a break and then go again. But honestly, his back was hurting from the backseat, his neck hurt from trying to crane it just right to suck Trevor’s dick. As much as he wanted it to keep going, he also half hoped Trevor was as tired as he was. They still had a heist to plan after all.

“T? You with me? I fuck you into a coma?” Michael chuckled.

There was no response, just Trevor breathing hard. Soon his breaths translated into a laugh, that cackle he had until he fell into Michael’s stomach, laughing. 

“What? You gonna make another fat joke, shithead?” Michael smirked.

“You just ate my ass, dude...dude, you’re the shit head” Trevor was hysterical, laughing at his own joke. Michael shook his head, running his hands through the top of his head. 

“I missed you T”

“Don't kiss me with those shit lips, sugar” Trevor chuckled, pulling himself up to kiss Michael’s cheek. He rested his head against Michael’s throat, placing a hand on his chest. 

“You find what replaced my heart?” Michael asked

“Yeah, its a fist.”

 

They rested in the back of the Sedan in silence for what felt like forever. Neither of them wanted to leave one another, they just wanted to remain how they were. Trevor rested his eyes and dozed off for a little while as he listened to Michael’s steady heartbeat. Michael watched him sleep, kissing the top of his head. He watched the windows, they’d all fogged up, blurring the sunrise coming from the back of the car. The buses didn’t run as frequently at night, so he told himself he had time for this, time to be with Trevor in this moment. 

Once Trevor stirred awake it was because he had to go pee. Michael put his shirt back on and smoked a cigarette on the hood of the car. Trevor pissed by the bushes off the road, and then stared at the beach, remembering something Michael wished he could access. 

They didn’t talk the rest of the way to Paleto Bay. Trevor drove now, Michael watched him chewing mint flavored gum.  _ One of These Nights _ played into the early morning. As he looked out at the empty country road he began to regret what had just transpired. He thought of Amanda, how the fuck was he going to balance out Amanda and Trevor? They hated each other. He’d tried to balance his time with both of them through the years and it never worked. And fuck...fucking Trevor.

Trevor still didn’t know, he still didn’t know what happened in North Yankton or even  _ why _ . He thought Brad was alive, that he was even in this state. He only knew part of the story, and most of what he knew was a lie. 

He couldn’t tell him. But he was going to figure it out soon enough, and when that happened Michael was fucked. 

_ What happens in Blaine County, stays in Blaine County  _ he told himself. He’d deal with all of that when the time came. Until then, he wanted to pretend that things were okay. That Trevor wasn’t still searching for answers, that Michael lied to him every second of every day. He was just going to pretend that things were the same as they were in the picture they were in, that they just kept living in that day and nothing terrible ever happened to them again.

 

As they pulled up to Paleto Beach bus stop he checked his phone to ask Lester where he was. Trevor sat down on the bench and took out his pouch of mysterious drug paraphernalia. 

“Seriously” Michael breathed, “that shit’ll kill you”.

Like clockwork Michael took out a cigarette, Trevor lit it. “You’re one to talk pork chop”

 

Michael was walking around the bus stop area. He was bad about waiting, he hated it. He wished he could’ve just picked up Lester instead of having to wait to plan this fucking thing.  _ This is fucking bullshit why is robbing a bank so fucking hard this is fucking stupid this is the fucking worst  _ was his internal monologue.

Then he felt a rock hit the back of his head.

Trevor sat there, smiling, pretending it wasn’t him.

“T, will you knock that shit off?”

“It wasn’t me, cocksucker!”

Michael lifted a finger to say anything but couldn’t, Trevor laughed. 

A few seconds later Michael felt another rock hit his ass. Trevor cheered as Michael turned around, his face contorted. “If you don't knock that shit out i’m gonna beat the shit out of you!”

“Please do, alleviate the boredom” Trevor sighed.

Michael turned and saw the bus coming, he gestured T to stand up “Looks like he’s here”.

 

Watching the cops nearly crash into the bank to make sure their dirty money wasn’t stolen was ridiculous. They were dirty cops, and dirty cops were willing to kill to secure what little money they got out of extortion. Michael laughed to himself, thinking about what a pathetic life you have to live to extort only enough money out of whore houses, meth kitchens, and weed farms to afford a two bedroom rotting house on the highway. At least when he was a shitbag he got a mansion out of the deal.

“Bad cops guarding dirty money. Fuck how many, we can take them!” Trevor enthused.

Lester barely gave that thought the time of day. “Wait right here. We’ll see if anything about their routine suggests weakness”

But sure enough two seconds later Lester’s police scanner announced that the cops had found it to be a false alarm, triggered intentionally. More than that they were going to set up checkpoints on every route out of there. 

“Checkpoints? Searches? Fuck this! I’m not getting caught because Lester needs a wheelchair!” Trevor yelled stepping out of the car, eyeing the dirt bike in park a few feet away.

“Wheelchair or not we can still beat your ass!” Michael challenged as Trevor revved the engine.

“I’m not gonna outrun a cop! We gotta go!” Lester shouted as they pulled out of the gas station.

“We’re going, and if we’re in front of Trevor, he’ll be the one stopped by the cops” He said rolling his window down to shout, “ _ RUN HIPSTER RUN! _ ”

Trevor didn’t look at Michael. Just proudly displayed his middle finger as he speed past three other cars.  _ Like i’m gonna let that shithead beat me,  _ Michael thought as he sped up. Michael knew that if he didn’t win Trevor was never gonna let up.

As they pulled onto a dirt path, Lester started to hyperventilate. “Oh god, I shouldn’t have come, god damn it!”

“Hey don't worry, we’re gonna win and Trevor is gonna be coughin’ up our dust for weeks!”

Lester scoffed, “ _ Trevor Philips.  _ I should’ve known he’d turn something so simple into a car chase!”

“We’re not being chased!” Michael laughed cracking a smile. He swerved past Trevor, they looked at each other, both flipping each other off.  _ Who says romance is dead?  _ He thought to himself.

He passed Trevor and continued increasing his speed. Lester stared at Michael, shots firing off in his head. Michael awkwardly coughed into his hand, trying to not look. “Oh jesus christ” Lester finally groaned, “You two are together? Again?”

“What? I mean, living in the same place, safety and numbers and all that”

“Jesus, you two never listen to me!” Lester cried, “You two always do this. You get down, and then everything falls apart!”

“It does not!” Michael defended

“Someone breaks it off, usually you. Trevor disappears, ends up wanted in six states and you almost get sent to rehab. Meanwhile, whatever we had planned goes up in flames because you two are so unprofessional you can't separate home from work!”

“Blah blah blah” 

“Whatever. You two are insane.  _ Oh boy! Lets race cars to Trevor’s home office! Its not like we have anything to hide! _ ” Lester continued

“Well when Trev says home office he mea--”

“He means meth lab. I know Michael. I’ve seen the title of ownership and the huge amounts of glass he gets shipped in.” Lester shook his head, taking out his inhaler. “You two haven’t changed at all”

“Lab is kind of generous, Lest. It's more like a...shit hole, where Meth is made.”

“Whatever,  _ of course  _ it's a perfect place to make plans to rob a fucking bank! I’m sure Trevor’s Office screams  _ ‘Only legal business here!’ _ ”

Before Michael could continue Trevor swerved in front of him.  _ Cocky son of a bitch!  _ Michael honked his horn as they headed into a tunnel. He yelled out his window “What's the matter Hipster? Scared you won't be there first to be the original?”

“Fuck you Michael! And fuck you Lester the Molester!” He yelled as he sped up.

Lester took a deep breath before taking a shot from his inhaler. “Look, it's gonna be fine Lester. These are cops from the sticks, we just need an edge right?” Michael said hoping to add some for of comfort.

“Yeah, and I got a few idea’s.”

 

Michael and Trevor were neck and neck, yelling so loud at each other that you couldn’t even make it out. Lester put his hands over his ears. 

They pulled into the Alamo Sea Gas Station AKA Trevor’s lab.

Both parties slammed into the building relatively at the same time. “Jesus christ!” Lester yelled, hurrying to get out of the car. “Upstairs?”

Trevor stood up from his bike holding his hands up as Michael emerged from his car. “Yessir, up the stairs! But first I gotta get my celebratory handjob from the  _ loser _ ” Trevor said coyly.

Michael squinted his eyes, “I think you got that in the wrong order, big boy.  _ I won _ ”

Trevor laughed, “Jesus you are so needy Michael!”

“You’re the one who said it! And I won! Besides, you’re the one who just got  _ all  _ the attention, what you need more?”

“Blah blah, go fuck yourself”, Trevor already lost interest, he made his way inside. Michael followed behind him, watching him from behind. 

 

As Michael and Lester talked about the plans to rob the bank, Trevor ate “leftovers” he had originally heated up for Michael. In all honesty, Trevor was almost completely sure that whatever was in it wasn’t human, but it definitely wasn’t safe for human consumption.

“I’ll get the equipment together, Michael you reach out to Franklin, and Trevor…” Lester looked at him wolfing down the unidentifiable...food? 

“You do what you do best” Lester instructed

“Of course buddy! Hey you wanna bunk with me and Michael? I mean it’ll be tight, well, not as tight tonight, but you know!”

Michael rubbed his temples.  _ Not an ounce of subtlety.  _

Lester continued walking out, taking out his phone to call a taxi, “I’m alright, I’ll get a motel”

Trevor stood to put the food away in the fridge, looked at Michael and asked, “Last chance buddy!” 

“I’m good, T.”

“Oh yeah you had ahh, pretty big lunch today h--” Trevor’s innuendo ended with him projectile vomiting on the floor. Michael instinctively walked over and held T’s chest and patted his back. 

“Alright T, maybe don't eat things in your fridge that aren’t clearly labelled”

“Want me to label my dick for you?” Trevor offered.

“Jesus christ, dude”.


	4. Interim: Send Me An Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey whats up guys this chapter killed me to write and I kinda wasn't sure if I should include it or not?  
> Just some tw's bc this is a North Yankton Chapter: Suicide attempt, guns??, drug use, death, and general sad stuff. In case someone would like to not read all of the bad triggery stuff I'm puttin' a summary of this chapter at the bottom so you can avoid it. Please stay safe!  
> Thank you to everyone whose been leaving kudo's, I luv u r luv is butiful flowr that grws out th shit <333  
> Summary:  
> Part one takes place behind an Irish Pub in North Yankton. Trevor laments how Michael has changed and how they've grown apart. Michael tells Trevor that they need to break things off permanently and he does not want Trevor to follow him. Trevor hits his head against a brick wall until his face turns bloody as Michael drives away to "If You Leave Me Now" by Chicago.  
> Part two takes place in a motel in North Yankton the night before the Heist. Michael is having second thoughts and feels extremely guilty for what he has put Trevor through as well as what will come. He attempts to slow dance with Trevor to Stevie Nicks. Trevor tells Michael that he cannot keep doing this to him, and breaks down crying. In the end they slow dance, Michael feeling disgusted with himself for what he plans to do, and Trevor accepting that Michael will never stop lying to him.  
> Part three takes place a few days after the Heist in a motel room. Trevor is by his own and is attempting suicide. He believes that Michael has died and that the police are only searching for Brad in order to kill him. On the TV the news reports that they have apprehended Brad and are giving him a life sentence in prison. Trevor decides to live to support Brad and help him as much as he can.  
> That is literally all that you're missing by not reading this so please dont read it if you feel that its not safe for you to read!! Please take care of yourself!!! I luv u!!  
> I'm still editing other chapters, the rest should be up by the end of this week.

**North Yankton, 2004, Outside the Shannon Arms Pub**

Trevor and Michael had been sitting out in the cold for who knew how long. Michael wanted some air, Trevor followed. 

Trevor always followed, no matter what he was always right behind Michael like a shadow. He’d have his head down, hands in his pockets, occasionally glancing at the back of his head hoping he’d notice him, that he’d turn around and see him.

They’d grown apart at an accelerated rate recently. Things went downhill when Michael told Trev he was marrying Amanda, that she was pregnant and he had to be responsible. Since then Trevor tried to stay in Michael’s life as best he could. The guy was his best friend, but something more than that. He felt like if he wasn't in Michael’s realm of thought he was dead already.

But the past month had been bad, real bad. It started with Trevor, almost overdosing on mysterious pills he didn't remember getting. He called michael, sobbed that he was so sorry that he fucked up and wanted to make things better. Trevor and Michael both knew it wasn't a plea for attention, it was just Trevor losing it more and more. Michael drove three hours out to pay his hospital bill and take him home, refusing to speak to him the whole time.

Then Michael kept skipping out of anytime they spent together. Michael would slip out and argue with Amanda on the phone over nothing. He’d fake an illness to not see Trevor and do whatever they planned to do. The only time they spent together was planning the Heist coming up. Michael was hiding something, and T hated it. 

“Is there a reason you brought me out here? Other than to let my dick freeze.” Trevor finally started. He wasn't looking at Mikey, but Michael was looking at him. Always staring. Always watching. Trevor liked him staring, it made him feel desirable. He wrapped his hands behind his head to tie his mullet into a ponytail.

“T...we uh, we gotta talk, alright?” Michael meekly began. He took out a cigarette, and fussed to get his lighter to work. The wind kept blowing out the flame. Annoyed, Trevor took the cigarette from Michael’s lips and lit it himself. He handed it back over, putting it back in his mouth, letting his fingers linger on Michael’s lips. 

“You wanna talk? Then talk cowboy” 

Michael was practically shaking. Trevor knew it wasn't the cold, but he didn't think about trying to comfort Michael. He could feel the hurt coming, he was already preparing himself.  _ I need a break  _ was a common excuse, or  _ i’m getting too old I need time at home.  _ Michael just looked ahead, and now Trevor was the one staring. 

“Trev, look...my kids, they’re gettin’’ old.”

“Yeah that happens, people tend to age it's a natural human affliction  _ Michael.” _

He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he always did when he was upset or stressed out. “Can you let me finish, jesus christ T.”

There was something in Michael’s voice, Trevor knew. He knew what was coming.  _ I need a break,  _ he’d say,  _ We can't keep this up it's not right to Amanda _ . But it was right, at least to Trevor. As far as he was concerned he was practically married to Michael. He knew everything about him, did everything together. He practically raised his own children, while Amanda banged Jimmy’s third grade teacher and Michael was too deep in a pit of self loathing to care. Trevor loved Michael, he loved him more than anyone else he could think of. He knew every part of him, every wrinkle, every mole. He’d seen him from the fresh faced twenty year old hustler to tired alcoholic suburban dad. He loved every incarnation of him, but he was wary of the suburbanite he’d tried to become in recent years. The white picket fence around his rented house was plastic. Michael pretended to be a traveling salesman to any of his neighbors, trying to write Trevor off as a colorful co-worker. Sure he wasn't wrong about that, they did work together, and yeah Trevor was colorful but it was the  _ way  _ he said it. He gave Michael everything, but he knew every few months he’d pull this, a fake breakup. Trevor would just go on a bender until Michael came back to him, crying about how much he needed him.

“Trace, she started asking questions. And Jimmy is too, they’re too smart, T. They’re gonna find out that their dad is a criminal and so is Uncle T. I mean shit, if they don't figure it out we’re gonna get caught again. And I cant...I cant do that to them” Michael lamented. Trevor could smell Michael’s bullshit from miles away, but he let him keep up. “I can't fucking do this forever Trev. And we, our partnership, it has to end. I mean, fuck, we should have cut it off years ago.  _ Fuck!” _

Michael stood up, kicking the snow and holding his head. Trevor was already pissed, he hated this. He wanted to yell and shout but Michael wasn't done, he was just thinking of new lies to crank out. 

“After North Yankton, Trev, we have to cut this off. For real.” He said, pointing to Trevor with his cigarette between his fingers. “We’re better apart. We have to be. We can't keep being like this, i’m married and, and--”

“Fuck you Townley” Trevor finally yelled back. 

Trevor stood up from his seat against the brick wall. He took Michael’s cigarette from his mouth and threw it on the ground. “You’re right, we’re getting too old for  _ this shit. _ ” He sneered, “Because I for one, am fucking tired of being your excuse alright? Your marriage? It was over before you even walked down that fucking isle! I dont have shit to do with that, that's your fucking fault. And don't you fucking bring the kids in, you don't even fucking know what Jimmy’s fucking softball team is named!”

“Trev, i’m not kidding.” 

“Well boy, oh boy, neither am I. Because you’re bullshitting. After the heist you’ll come back, begging for my forgiveness and  _ fuck you!  _ I love you, and only you! I’m tired of this shit! whatever man, do whatever you fucking want.”

Trevor was standing inches from Michael looking down at him. Michael had his eyes shut, avoiding Trevor's gaze. “I’m not coming back, Trev. Once Lest can get the money in my account, we’re moving.”

Trevor laughed. “What a three hour drive too much for you to come and do coke with me and be yourself? Fine whatever, it's your gas money”

“Trevor you don't understand” Michael took a deep breath, and walked in a circle away from Trevor, planning his next words carefully. “I...I dont love you. Not anymore, and I need you to know that i’m not coming back. I need you to understand that I don't  _ fucking  _ want you anywhere near me, or my family. We’re not kids anymore, we’re grown men and I _ don't love you anymore _ .”

Trevor scoffed, trying to think of something, someway for Michael to take it back. He waited, waited for Michael to shake his head and apologize. But he didn't. He just stared at Trevor with those steel eyes who saw right through him. 

Trevor was still, he just watched Michael look at him. There was a storm in both of them, but Trevor couldn't think about Michael because he’d already started laughing that sick hurt hyena cackle he had. 

“Yeah, sure. You gonna kill me?” He asked

Michael put his hand in his jacket, pulling out his magnum. 

Trevor breathed hard. It hit him like a wrecking ball.  _ He wasn't joking, he wasn't kidding.  _

Trevor fell to his knee’s, “what’d you want Mikey? Huh? What do you need me to do?” He cried as he crawled towards Michael. “You want me cry? Beg? Well i’m on my fucking knee’s!”

Michael inhaled sharply, his face devoid of emotion. He just rested the gun at Trevors forehead as he crawled to him on his hands and knees. 

Once Trevor reached Michael he hugged his legs, sobbing into Michael’s stomach. Michael could feel Trevor trembling under him. 

When Trevor looked up at Michael finally it only made him cry out. Michael wasn't even crying, he wasn't even  _ frowning.  _ He didn't care. He held the gun to Trevor’s temple as he sobbed. “Mikey don't fuck with me!” Trevor wailed, holding onto Michael’s jacket as he kneeled before him, broken. “Is it the meth? I’ll fucking quit! I’ll use all of my cash from this heist to go to rehab! Michael! Please!”

“Its not the drugs, T. I have a family” 

“I’m your fucking family!!” he whailed.

Michael had only seen Trevor cry one other time in their entire relationship out of sadness. It was after his mom disappeared on him again, promised to meet him at the Canadian/US Border but left him hanging for three days. He went off after an elk, stabbed it to death under him as he sobbed. Michael found him still stabbing the poor animal, it was already dead but Trevor needed to take it out on something. Afterwards he held him, rocking him in his arms, promising he’d never leave.

But now it was different, worse. Michael knew Trevor had no one to hold him now, no one to stop him. But he had to tell himself that it wasn’t his fault, that Trevor was a grown man and had to take care of himself. Trevor was getting worse every year, more impulsive, more needy for Michael’s attention. He couldnt deal with him anymore, he was just a headache now, a phone call to dread, a face he hated. All Michael could tell himself was that at the end of all of this, he’d have a mansion in Los Santos. Afterwards the San Andre’s sun could melt his brain, he’d sweat out his guilt, go comatose by his pool while Tracey and Jimmy went to the best private school and Amanda could have whatever she wanted.  _ I’m your fucking family!  _ Echoed through the open area behind the bar, it hit Michael, but he pretended not to feel it.

“You’re nothing, Trevor. You’re a fucking addict, and I cant have you around anymore. I’ll see you at the heist when its ready, but after, you are  _ dead  _ to me.” Michael threatened, pushing Trevor off of him. “Dont you call me, dont you come to my house. Dont make this harder than it needs to be.”

In a split second Trevor switched from complete and utter despair to pure unadulterated anger.

“ _ Fuck you Michael! Fuck you!  _ You think I’m nothing? I’m your fucking nightmare, sweetheart!” Trevor screamed

“Blah blah, you’re all talk” Michael spat back. He put his gun away, and held his arms open. “You’re my nightmare, huh? Then c’mon big boy! Make my day! Kill me right here, I know you have your switchblade, your fucking favourite right? Draw it out, nice and slow, go ahead!”

Trevor was trembling, he was already holding the knife in his hand when Michael brought it up. He wanted to cut a hole in his chest and see how cold his heart was now. He wanted to cut him up into pieces and send him bit by bit to that bitch Amanda who probably put him up to this. 

Trevor was pumping himself up, breathing hard, but then the tears came again. He let out a cry as he fell to his knee’s again, dropping the knife in the snow as he pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. 

“Thats what I thought” Michael said as he made his way over to his car as Trevor sobbed.

As Michael got in his car he could see Trevor throwing himself against the brickwall, his face was red with blood. He could still hear Trevor screaming, crying out like a hurt animal. As it began to snow again, Michael turned on the radio to drown out Trevor’s cries.  _ If You Leave Me Now  _ was playing.

 

* * *

 

**North Yankton, 2004, La Grande Motel.**

Michael watched Trevor through the thin veil of smoke from his cigarette between his lips. In his lap he held a picture of his family. Amanda, little Jimmy, and the princess Tracey. It was on Tracey’s 4th birthday, Michael nearly missed the party. Amanda called telling him to just not show up, insinuating that if he was with Trevor he was in no shape to attend a children’s birthday party. But he was actually just asleep after a night of hard drinking, he didn't really know where he was. He didn’t have a car, Trevor picked him up, no one ever knew he nearly missed his only daughter’s birthday party. Trevor bought Tracey a Los Santos Doll Dream House for Michael to give her. 

He always felt so fucking guilty, but tonight it was choking him. Trevor sat on the edge of his bed watching the TV, some fucking history channel show about Planes of WWII. He was wearing that fake handlebar mustache Michael hated. He nearly killed him when he said that he was going to grow a mullet and buy a mustache for the North Yankton sting. But tonight on the eve of the heist, Michael wasn’t upset because of Trevor’s insistence to look like Burt Reynolds. He was upset because he knew Trevor was going to die tomorrow, and he couldn’t stop it.  

Trevor turned to Michael, “What’d you lookin at?” 

“Tracey’s birthday picture. I like to look at it before a sting. Helps”

“Mmmhmm” Trevor nodded, “I remember that. Jesus, how old is she now?” 

“Almost thirteen...fuck, wait...twelve? Jesus I dont know.”

“She’s a good kid, so is Jimmy” Trevor continued, “I know...I know you said...I can't go around them anymore. I’m still fucking pissed, but I love those kids, Mikey. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Sometimes Michael wondered how awful he must be to have worse parenting skills than Trevor. Trevor couldn’t keep a fish alive without eating it alive or pissing in its bowl. But whenever Michael failed, Trevor made it his job so that the kids never knew how much of a fuck up he really was. 

Trevor taught Jimmy to ride a bike, taught Tracey how to skateboard. He recorded all of their school performances, and took an active interest in their hobbies. 

Michael admitted it to himself a long time ago, but Jimmy and Tracey were more Trevor’s kids than his. Amanda and Trevor were the ones raising them, even if they hated each other. But Michael tried,  _ god  _ he wanted to believe he tried. But Trevor loved them so much, maybe because he had such a shitty childhood. Michael had personally met Ms. Philips and seen the terrifying baby pictures of Trevor with bruises and black eyes. Michael had a shitty childhood too, but it just made him a worse parent. He couldn’t even remember the last time he hugged one of his kids or even told them that he loves them. 

Michael moved to the outlet by the nightstand that separated his and Trevor’s beds. He plugged in a small cassette player, and hit play. He stood up and walked in front of Trevor and the TV. 

“Hey lard ass, i’m missing my show” Trevor groaned.

“C’mere, Trev. Let me see you”

Trevor inhaled, trying to figure out what game Michael was playing. Michael already told him to fuck off for real, ignored him for a month. They hadn’t seen each other since that night behind the bar where Michael told him that after Yankton, he didn’t want to ever see him again. Trevor was still broken inside because of that. He had a permanent scar on his forehead where he hit his head against the walls. His chest felt raw, like there were millions of shards of glass styck to his heart. Michael hurt him, he fucked him up, and never apologized. Now they were staying in a motel, two beds to sleep in, before the heist tomorrow.

“Jesus why didn’t Brad come?” Trevor sighed

“Because he wanted to do blow and fuck truck stop hookers, Trev, let me see you.”

“I’m here! Michael!” Trevor yelled

“ _ Stand up,  _ please” 

Begrudgingly, Trevor stood up. 

He was ten times worse than he was months ago. Before he was bad, all of the meth and the other drugs he put in his body were taking a toll. But now he looked even worse. His eyes were puffy, his skin dry. He had tiny scrapes and scabs all over from picking at his skin. The track marks had traveled from his forearms up to his neck.  _ I did this, fuck I did this to him.  _ Michael wanted to cry, but he couldn’t not tonight.

Stevie Nicks, “I Can't Wait” played from Michael’s cassette player. He laced his fingers between Trevor’s and began to slowly move back and forth. Trevor, confused, raised a brow. 

_ “I love yoooou”  _ echoed from the background of Stevie’s melody. Michael grabbed Trevor’s waist and held him in close, trying to get him to sway along with him. Trevor caught on, but didn’t touch Michael. He couldn’t. Michael was like a fire, if he touched him he would get burned and Michael was already on his clothes. But Trevor had a talent of getting burned, and he’d be lying if he wasnt dying to hold Michael. 

“Trev” Michael said finally

“What sugar tits?”

“I...I love you man. I do. I’m sorry about what I did. I’m so fucking sorry”

Michael didn’t look up at him. Trevor felt a rage fill up inside of him,  _ What you love me now? Because i’m about to make you some money?  _ He shoved michael off of him, and then spit on the ground. The song repeated.

“Jesus christ Trevor!” Michael cried, “What the fuck?!”

“What the fuck? I’ll tell you  _ what the fuck, Mikey! _ ” He was fuming, but there was something else in there. Uncertainty, indecision buried in his words. Trevor lived without regrets, or at least tried not to. He did what he wanted, indecision was rare, and dangerous. 

“You don't fucking talk like that to me!” Trevor yelled

“What the fuck are you talking about? I always say that to you!”

“When you want me! When you wanna use T! Need validation for your pathetic existence? Call T. Need someone to parent your fucking children? Call T! Need validation for your cock’s miserable existence? Call T! Need someone to block you from a wave of bullets? T is tall! Call him!”

“What the fuck is your damage, dude? I’m trying to make things right!”

“Well they won't be!” Trevor spat, his voice breaking. It was then that Michael saw it, Trevor wasn’t mad, he was fucking  _ devastated. _ Of course he was, Michael left him to die behind a fucking bar. But Michael lied to himself, said that Trevor would get better, that he’d be over it by their next job. But he wasn't, Michael cut him and it was never going to heal. Trevor had tears rolling off his cheeks in a steady stream. He took off his fake mustache, afraid that the tears would fuck up the glue. Michael attempted to walk closer to him, but Trevor pulled out his gun.

Michael put his hands in the air, “Whoa, Trev...Trev, c’mon. I know…I know I did that to you, b--”

“No! You need to listen to me, Townley for once in your fucking life!”

“Then put...the gun...down, T”

For a second he held it there before his arm started to shake. He needed a fix, but he needed to make his point first. 

He put the gun down on the bed, putting the safety on.

He sat beside it, staring at it, like it was what was inevitable. Michael wanted to grab it and throw it out the window. 

“M, I got nobody” he started. “I...I was all alone, before I met you. No one wanted me, not the army, not all of my step dads, even my...my…”

“You don't gotta say the last one” Michael said, trying to be courteous. Trevor looked at him, giving a look of thanks. He wasn’t ready to admit that, not tonight.

“And then you showed up, on my airstrip. Since then you’re...You’re like a drug I can't quit. You’re worse than meth, worse than heroin. I’d cross a fucking ocean just to get a fix, but you always hurt me, worse than anything else.”

“I’m sorry”

“Shut up. You left me behind a bar with a concussion and nearly passed out in the snow, you broke my fucking heart. You held a gun to my head and told me I was worthless. And then...then you pull shit like this! You show up at my door, asking me to hold your fucking hand so we can score a couple thousand. But after this? You’ll abandon me again, and again, and again. How many fucking times are you gonna do that, M? Huh? Til i’m fucking dead because I’m so fucking depressed that the only person I have in this whole fucking world wants to fucking test me?”

“I’m not testing you, Trev, I just…” Michael wanted to tell him. He wanted to tell him what was going to happen. But he had to think of the kids, think of Amanda, think of Los Santos, of what the FIB would do if he double crossed them. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don't know how to be a decent person, Trev. But I want to dance with you, and tell you how much I fucking love you in the only fucking way I know how. Because Lester says this plan is a bust, and I...I need you to know, I fucking love you. I do”

Michael tried again. He approached Trevor once more, his hands slowly reaching out. Michael was crying now, all of the guilt and anger choking him. Trevor saw his tears and stood up. He towered over Michael at 6’1”, but he always felt like Michael was the one looking down at him. 

He bent down to kiss one of Michael’s tears, and held him as tight as he could, afraid that if he let go the wind would blow him away. 

Michael rested his head against Trevor’s chest. He could hear his heartbeat, feel the heat radiating from him. He breathed in his smell, letting himself go. He didn’t want to let go of Trevor, he wanted to say fuck it, fuck the FIB, fuck his family. He wanted him and Trevor to ride off in Trev’s Bodhi down the snow covered road, singing at the top of their lungs. He wanted to rob banks with Trevor until they were old and grey and any attempts were laughable. He wanted to watch Trevor grow old and grey, watch his hair thin out and watch him start to bitch about ‘kids these days’. He wanted to kiss him goodnight, goodmorning, good afternoon, good everything. He wanted to belong to Trevor like he did before he met Amanda, before he fucked up and got her pregnant. He wanted to wake up to Trevor in his arms, sleeping like a log. He wanted to see Trevor’s face while he soared hundreds of feet in the air. He wanted to see Trevor in every stage of his life, he wanted him so fucking bad to be happy that Michael started crying. 

“Fucking sissy” Trevor joked, kissing Michael’s forehead. “Cryin’ like a baby”

“Fuck you, you started it you asshole” Michael sobbed. 

“Why cant you be like this?” Trevor asked, “Why cant you stay like this? I miss you like this. Not you bein’ a baby, but you bein’ sweet like this. When ‘Sugar Tits’ meant something”

Michael tried to calm himself down, but he didn’t want to leave Trevor’s hold. He loved his arms around him, he felt so safe. “I’m sorry”

“Mikey, look at me now” Michael looked up, “Make this right. Don't leave me again, I cant take it. Please, Michael, let me stay your best friend. Let me stay, please. I love you like nobody else.”

_ I love you like nobody else.  _ Michael was going to fucking burst. He couldn’t do this, he wanted to yell  _ Trevor, let's just fucking go. Just you and me, lets go.  _ Instead all he could do was lie through his guilty tears. “I’ll never leave you again, man”

“Dont you fucking break my heart again, Townley”

Trevor kissed him, Michael could taste the sadness on his lips. Trevor didn’t believe him, but he didn’t care. He loved him so much, Michael loved him back. It was all that mattered. Stevie Nicks song repeated.

 

* * *

 

**2004, Two Days after No. Yankton Heist, Motel Room in the middle of nowhere.**

Trevor sobbed quietly to himself. He played that cassette player over and over again until it broke and then he screamed to fill the empty space. The motel room was riddled with indented holes in the wall where he banged his head, blood dried on his head. The mattress had been flipped over, the shades drawn. 

He sat in the tub, fully clothed, sobbing. He had cut his hair since he left the state line, this place was his first stop in days. He wanted it to be his last, so he found the nearest dealer and blew all of his cash on enough Heroin to kill a bull. 

He left the television on in the other room, he didn’t want to only hear silence. He didn't want to hear the quietness of a world with no one in it. It was tuned to the news station where they talked about the Heist. 

Trevor screamed and kicked and flailed in the porcelain tub. Then he reached for his spoon and lighter, he’d set this all up before he had a meltdown. He was ready, he had no doubts.

As he heated up the black tar on his spoon he listened to the news.

“ _ The County Sheriff reports that the police have found two of the robbers dead, a one Michael Townley and Gregory Miller. Currently two unknown suspects remains at large, and police urge civilians to report any strange activity in their area. _ ”

At Michael’s name, Trevor let out a pained howl, he put the spoon down and began sobbing again. He was in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from, he was alone, and this time was real. He left Michael behind, and now he was dead. Michael didn’t leave Trevor behind, but Trevor felt that he did. He wanted to punch him in the jaw for hurting him like this but there was nothing he could do but sob.  _ I’ll be there soon Mikey, just fucking wait for me, just fucking wait.  _

He grabbed his spoon again, and continued heating it through his tears. Once it was ready he grabbed his needle. 

He already took off his belt, he had it looped around his right arm. He looked down to his hand, the scorpion daring him. the hand that Michael held once, the one that touched Michael. It was also home to one of the few veins he could shoot in right now.  _ I’m poison, I’m poison, I’m poison _ repeated in his head on loop. 

For a moment, he was still. He just breathed, as he stared at the needle.  _ This is really it, I told him. I told him I’d die for him.  _

As he began to hit his forearm for the vein to appear, the news continue. “ _ A new development in the Ludendorff Bobcat Robbery. Police have reported that they have apprehended a Brad Snider shown here.”  _

Trevor rose to his feet and ran out the bathroom to the television. He held it with his hands staring at Brad’s mugshot.  _ He lived, Brad fucking made it...he fucking made it. _

“ _ Police say that the robber has refused to identify the other missing perpetrator. Police continue to warn the citizens of Ludendorff and all surrounding towns to be wary of any criminal activity _ ”

Trevor swallowed hard, falling backwards as he stared at the screen. 

All his life he’d been left behind. No one wanted him, who would? He was completely and utterly alone in the world, until Michael showed up. Without Michael, Trevor couldn't imagine living. He knew it was a lot of pressure to put on Michael and definitely did him no favors mentally, but it was the truth. Now Michael was gone, his worst fear come true. 

But Brad...Brad was alive. 

If Brad didn’t talk, Trevor couldn’t leave him. He had to be there for him, he had to write him letters, send him money for commissary, send him tips on prison showers. Brad was lazy and greedy and Trevor thought he was a dick. But he  _ needed  _ him. And Trevor couldn’t abandon him, he couldn’t imagine inflicting the pain he felt on any creature on earth.

For the next few hours he stayed in the motel. He kept the needle always in reaching distance. Mainly he sobbed, threw his head against the walls, even tried to drown himself for a little bit. When the sun began to rise and sunshine snuck in between his blinds he stood against the wall. He let the sun heat his skin, he blinded himself staring at it. He walked around the debris of his meltdown, throwing open the shades. All he could see were the woods outside the Motel parking lot, the blinding sun, and the endlessly blue sky. It was then he decided as he gazed at the rising sun, he had to stay.  _ Sorry Mikey...Save me a seat you fat fuck. _


	5. Predator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> full disclosure: it was at this chapter i started to come out of my blackout so onward writing may be worse or better? thank u for believing in me. Suicide is mentioned in this chapter just fyi.  
> xoxo,   
> daaarlings <33

Michael sat in the sand along the Alamo sea. Doctor Friedlander had e-mailed Michael asking him to call for a phone session. Michael almost hated his therapist, but his appointments were more or less glorified confessionals of recent sins. For that, he couldn’t hate Friedlander, especially since he didn’t mind any of what Michael told him, just how he planned to pay for his sessions.

He dialed the number, half hoping that the good doctor wouldn’t pick up. Of course he did.

“Michael! Que pasa amigo?” Friedlander said over the line.  _ Are you fucking kidding me, does he know about Madrazo?  _ Michael pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Not good, Doc. Well, I mean, good is...I dont know”

“You sound confused Michael. Tell me why”

Michael mainly payed Friedlander an absurd amount of money to not call the cops on him, or send him to an institution. The last thing Michael needed was three days in the psych ward because he told his therapist that he bit someone’s finger off. But that was from another time.

“Things are bad, I don't know...It's just fucked up Doc. I’ve been really bad, Doc. I’m losing it, I’m fucking suffering. I’ve lost everything that matters to me, I’m living with Trevor who’ll probably kill me if the government doesn’t. I want my family back, doc, but I want them to be different... _ I  _ want to be different, the world to be different.”

“Obsessing about things you can't change can kill you, Michael. Have you tried to call your wife?”

“Doesn’t pick up, I almost don't want her to. You know she acts like she didn’t know who I was when she married me. Fucks sake she worked for me before I got her knocked up”

“Hm, and your children?”

“Hate me still”

“Oh Michael. You live a troubling life, you’re a narcissistic psychopath, and now, well I’m a lot more worried. You say you’re living with Trevor now?”

“Yeah and...fuck...god damn it!” Michael yelled.

“Michael” Friedlander didn’t need to say anything else to get a real confession out, but he persisted. “How are your sexual tendencies”

“I fucked him doc, and...I liked it. I missed him, I really did and we ain't as young as we use to be, but...it was fucking amazing”

“Michael you have to be better about controlling yourself! We’ve worked so hard to get you to this point”

“What fucking point doc? I’m miserable. You know I abstain from fucking call girls and strippers and whoever else. But, I didn’t make a mistake, I liked being with Trevor again, Doc and I’m doing better than I could be.”

“Michael, not only did you just finish telling me that you are not going well, but you constantly talk about how you wish to kill this man. You’ve even told me that one of your fantasies is him killing  _ you. _ ”

“That's just talk, doc. Look, I’m...I’m doing real bad. I’m living in a trailer with Trev, a kidnapped housewife, and Trevor’s minion. It's always fucking hot and dry out, and the AC almost never works. But, I’m trying to stay positive, that's what i’m suppose to be right? Maybe I can make things right”

“But you can't tell Trevor the truth can you? How will you fix your relationship with him if you cannot even truly be yourself?”

“I don't know. Like I said, I’m miserable, but I’m doing better than I should be.”

“You cannot fix this if you continue to lie to him, Michael. Now I su--”

Michael hung up. He didn’t need a response or advice, he said what he needed to say.

It’d been days since they sized up the Paleto bank. Now it was just waiting, waiting for the convoy of weapons, waiting for the right day, waiting for the best moment. 

Things with Trevor had been relatively the same, except him and Michael had become much more handsy. Trevor would wrap his arms around Michael from behind when he saw him sitting on the counter watching TV. Michael would rest his palm against Trevor’s cheek when he slept. 

But Friedlander wasn’t wrong. Michael couldn’t fix things, he was only making things worse. Everyday he was lying to Trevor, and every time he told him a lie he only made it harder to fix the situation. He wanted so badly for everything to be better, but he knew, he knew it wasn’t going to be like before. It couldn’t be, Michael had made sure of that a long time ago. But for now, he just enjoyed what he could. How Trevor held him and then whispered something horrendous in his ears, how Trevor texted him pictures of cactuses that looked like dicks, the time they shared in the back of Michael’s sedan. 

God if that wasn’t a time. He spent the better part of that night trying to clean the stains out of the black leather, but even now you could easily make out what they are. His back still kind of hurt from the whole thing, but we was just tired. He was tired of lying, tired of running. He’d spent his whole life running, lied to Trevor for 10 years. He wanted to retire, to take a rest, to tell Trevor what really happened. But he couldn’t give into that, he tried to not think of it. But North Yankton was a memory that replayed in his head every second of everyday.  _ “I love you like no one else” _ , dipshit was so fucking dramatic and romantic when he wanted to be. Those words were ingrained into Michael’s psyche, he saw them written out before him when he shut his eyes. He couldn’t listen to Stevie Nicks.

The sun was setting over San Andres. Michael stood up from the sand and lit one last cigarette before he walked back home. The way to the “sea” was short, it was just across the street. He got away from the trailer to talk to his therapist because he knew that Patricia, Ron, or Trevor would make a big deal about therapy. He just needed his usual $1500 confessional phone call. 

He began to walk home as the streetlights turned on, and the sky turned into an indigo purple gradient above his head. He hoped Trevor would be home. 

As he came upon the trailer he put his cigarette out against his boot. He didn’t flick them on the ground anymore. Trevor would still give him shit about how smoking was gonna kill him, all while getting ready to smoke meth with Ron. 

As he came upon the house he found Trevor pouring gasoline into a plastic cup and Patricia watching TV. “God damn it, T, really?”

“Well  _ someone  _ has to add some fucking danger to this house. My dear sweet Patricia, she cleaned all of the flammable stains I had out! Plus, I only had five dollars alright, shit lips?”

Michael sighed, he didn’t want to fight. He took out his phone, thinking about calling Jimmy, maybe even Tracey. At least Tracey had a five second voicemail, instead of improvised rap that Jimmy had that lasted three minutes. 

“Call Jimbo, I wanna hear that stupid fucking voicemail he’s got” Trevor requested, bringing the gas to his nose. 

“Put that fucking thing down and...yeah, alright”.

He dialed Jimmy’s number. With each ring he regretted it, fuck he didn’t want to hear it, why was his son like this? Why couldn’t he just be a regular kid? 

_ “Ay you reach ya boy Jizzle, the real Shizzle, here to take a note fro-”  _ the voicemail recited.

Patricia, the saint, offered, “You can press 0 to skip the voicemail!”

_ Thank fuck,  _ Michael sighed, pressed 0, Trevor rolled his eyes. 

“Hey Jimmy, its your dad. If you get this will you please give me a ring? Tell your mom too, alright? And Tracey...Please son”

Trevor swished the gasoline in his plastic cup, putting his weight on the countertop. He whined in a mocking tone,  _ “mmm Daddy’s been bad boy, bleeeeeeh please son _ !” 

Michael ended the call, shaking his head. He shut the front door and headed inside. Trevor held the cup out to Michael, “Want a sniff?”

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Michael sneered

Trevor took a deep inhale, before he fell backwards a little taking it in. He turned back to Michael, cup still in hand “You know the way I see it this country was  _ built  _ by and for Gasoline, so I’m just doing my patriotic duty doing the stuff!”

_ Yeah alright Canada,  _ Michael thought to himself. Trevor took another sniff, “It's cheap, but it's good!”

Patricia took notice of Trevor’s sniffing and stormed over to him. She took the cup out of his hand and slapped his face. “ _ Gasolina?  _ No!”

Michael grabbed his stomach and started roaring in laughter as Patricia returned to the couch.

“Jesus Mrs. M, sorry!” Trevor made his way over to the fridge, pulling it open, “You want a beer fatso? Oh shit, I don't have low carb!”

He grabbed two beers, took the cap off with his bare hands. Michael inhaled sharply,  _ that's not even a fucking twist cap.  _

Trevor tossed him the beer and moved back to the kitchen area, sitting up on the counter. “So what’d you and your boyfriend do when you go out to uh,  _ work _ ?” Michael asked.

Trevor raised his brows, “Oh  _ shit!  _ Mikey is taking interest in me? Oh boy! Well, you see Michael, I’m normally out there putting people in their goddamn place”

“You know there’s more to this business than going on a killing rampage right?”

“Hey! Just because I like the life and you feel guilty about it doesn’t make you any less of a man than me.” He asserted, standing up from the countertop. “And you know what? Deep down, I know you believe in the bullshit. You know the picket fences, the happy endings…”

Trevor took a swing of his beer, flaring his nostrils. 

“Oh and your street philosophy gotten you far in life has it? Oh yeah you’ve achieved  _ perfect  _ balance.” Michael sarcastically chimed.

Trevor shook his head, “Man you’ve gone ten years in the sun and your brain has  _ melted!  _ Jesus, you say words that have no meaning! W-What is  _ balance _ ? Huh? That I only kill on the weekends? So, Mondays, Wednesdays, and Friday’s, I’m doing Yoga and Meditation. Tuesday and Thursday? Hookers and sticking up joints, huh?”

“Yeah well, you’re one to fucking talk. Historically you’re the one stickin’ things up” Michael added tongue in cheek. 

“No alright, fuck! Compared to you, i’m the sanest motherfucker I know!”

Michael laughed, “Oh really? You’re sane?”. Even Patricia was laughing, shaking her head.

“Fuck yeah! I’m so fucking mentally sane I should open a fucking mental health clinic!”

Michael shook his head, he was laughing and having a beer with his best friend, talking shit. It was good, he nodded “Alright, alright”

“Now are you gonna stop being such a huge asshole?”

“Well I dunno...But i’ll try” Michael said tipping his bottle.

Trevor clinked it, “Well I appreciate your honesty, sugar tits”

For a little while it was just this awkward silence.  _ Fuck it's like we’re high schoolers, just fucking talk about it,  _ Michael thought.

“So I uh...I talked to Franklin” Trevor finally said.

“What the fuck? Why?!”

“Because unlike you, when Franklin hears that his homies are having trouble, he checks in! And he has no problem coming to  _ me  _ for help. See, we’re the closest fucking thing that kid has to parents and god damn it Michael if you’re gonna let another kid down you might as well start sending me those childcare checks”

“Franklin is a grown ass man”

“A grown ass man with a loving pop pop who is worried that daddy Michael is gonna torch the farm! Oh lord!” Trevor cried out in a faux southern accent. 

Michael took a deep breath and put the beer down. He covered his mouth, taking a deep breath through his nostrils trying to get his thoughts together. When he was done he began, “So you ensure that by laying low, you call a fucking known associate of ours in LS to come out here for what? A little visit? Jesus christ, Trevor!”

“See that, that is so fucking typical of you. You don't even ask about the trouble, because everyone’s gotta be a fuck up except you right? Well also, you know, you wished I was dead so what the fuck does what I have to say matter, huh? You instantly think of yourself”

Michael bit his lip, and nodded. He was trying to be better, and he wanted to fix things as much as he could. Trevor had a point, and Michael decided to remember it. “Your right. I did do that. I apologize.”

Trevor watched Michael down the rest of his beer, and saw something in that moment. One of the billions of apologizes penned by Michael, and Trevor couldn’t even tell when he was lying anymore. “Thats not good enough” He said, avoiding Michael’s gaze. He grabbed his shoes off the floor and began lacing them. “Look i’m gonna go out there, I might die.”

He stood up from the ground and got in close, against Michael’s back and held his biceps. “ _ Hope you’re happy _ ” he whispered.

Michael watched him go out the door but wasn’t gonna be that shithead tonight. He followed him and called out, “Hey i’m coming with you”

“No” Trevor barked back, stopping at the stairs 

“Yes, there isn’t anything to fucking do in this dump, so I’m coming”

“You said the same fucking thing before you got your DNA all over my fucking stomach. You’re not coming  _ on  _ me or  _ with  _ me anywhere, you dipshit” 

Patricia followed them out and called, “Have fun boys!”

 

There were some things Trevor was naturally gifted at. Falling asleep in strange locations, carrying bodies like they were nothing, and fashion, of course. But what was his true calling was flying, and Michael loved to watch him, even if the experience was utterly terrifying.

As Michael got into the “business helicopter”, he watched Trevor revving himself up. He was flicking all of these switches and hitting buttons to start a flying deathtrap Michael had no understanding of. It was magic, that Trevor could get the hunk of metal off the ground and soaring in the sky. 

Trevor smiled the whole time during liftoff, if they weren’t in a hurry he probably would’ve tried to see how high up he could go before Michael pissed his pants.

Michael was already strapped in and holding onto the sides of his seat for dear life. Trevor looked over laughing, “What Mikey? Don't trust me?”

“Don't you fucking do what you’re thinking about!”

“A what? A  _ this?”  _ Trevor asked as he tipped the helicopter on its side above Alamo Sea. Michael screamed, reaching over and grabbing Trevor’s shirt for safety. It was then that Michael realized that this helicopter was missing  _ its doors. _ Trevor just cackled like a witch before he finally put the helicopter right side up again. 

“What the fuck is wrong you?!” Michael screamed

“Sorry baby, this birdie gotta soar” 

Michael panted, trying to not notice how high up they were. He tried to focus on Trevor.

The moon was full, outshining all of the stars in the sky. The moon made Trevor’s skin glow, all of the scabs on his face seemed less depressing in the moonlight. Michael remembered when they first met, Trevor hadn’t gotten into anything serious yet. All of his cuts and scrapes were from fights or results of his poor impulse control. Michael would disinfect the cuts, kissing the bandages he’d put over them. Not there were too many, cuts in his skin where he thought there were bugs under his skin. The pin pricks that stuck out from his skin, leading a trail of where his best veins were that day.

Michael always felt shitty about Trev and his drugs. He knew him when he was already going down that path, but Trevor was like a train you couldn’t stop. But Michael been there through the bad trips, the good ones, the ones that ended with Trevor trying to scale a building in his underwear. He use to always offer to use his cut from their stings to get Trevor some help but it just made him mad. Trevor would yell that he didn’t have a problem, that he did what he wanted and it wasn’t Michael’s problem. 

But the ten years apart did Trevor no favors. Now he was worse.  _ Michael you are a classic psychopathic narcissist,  _ Friedland’s analysis always echoed when he got on this topic with himself. But he did on a very conscious level, understand that Trevor likely got so bad in the past few years  _ because  _ of Michael.

Trevor was disappearing every couple of hours now to get more, or would take out that fucking leather bag. Michael hated to see him use, even when they shared coke he hated it. He didn’t want to enable him, but Trevor was fucked before Michael got involved, at least he wanted to believe that. 

Now he really looked bad, and had only gotten worse. He wanted to force Trevor to get better, to hold him down until he agreed to go to rehab. Michael would pay an arm and a leg to get Trevor to at least quit meth or heroin. But, there was Friedland on Michael’s shoulder again,  _ would he like Trevor without the drugs? _

Michael always told himself how much he loved Trevor as much as he hated him. But what if Trevor only loved Michael  _ because  _ of the drugs. Because he knew that if he used, then Michael would stay and take care of him, or would stay and do them with him, or for any number of reasons. He spent so many years wishing that Trevor was dead, but now it made him feel shitty to imagine living without him again. 

Trevor caught Michael staring at him again. He loved that secretly, he also loved to embarrass him. He grinned at Michael, and chuckled, “You know I may crash this chopper”

“Trevor I swear to god!”

“Because with how blue your eyes are, I might get lost at sea”

Michael groaned, and began rubbing his temples. Trevor laughed so hard the helicopter started to shake and Michael started screaming.

 

As they pulled up on the scene, Trevor instructed Michael to grab the sniper rifle he’d also taken from the IAA Heist. Michael agreed to snipe, but only if Trevor agreed to not fuck with him while the was doing it.

“I’ll try...Honesty is the best policy, Mikey”

“Fuck your policy!”

Michael grabbed the rifle and looked through the scope. Trevor kept the chopper steady as he watched Michael aim. 

Michael was the best shot that Trevor knew. He could shoot a white rabbit in the middle of a blizzard from 500 yards away. There was something about it that got Trevor going, seeing Michael like that, in his element. He couldn’t even see him breathing when he was doing that, he just kneeled still before popping off. 

“One down!” He announced

Trevor missed this.  _ This is what it should’ve been,  _ he thought.

“Good, check the river, dirty hillbillies probably trying to swim awa-”

Michael already got him, “Two down!”

“Hills! Mikey, check the hills! Hillbillies love hills!”

Michael laughed, it made Trevor laugh along with him. Another shot. “Only one left!”

“Nice shootin’ Tex” Trevor joked

“Bite me”

As Michael examined the woods through his scope Trevor saw something flying at them. Instinctively he ducked the helicopter sideways to avoid the projectile, sending Michael flying backwards. Michael flew out of the side of the chopper, desperately clinging to the rifle which was attached to the helicopter by a cable. “ _ T!” _

“I didn’t do it on purpose! Pull yourself up!”

Another light coming at them, Trevor ducked it again, trying to keep Michael from falling. “Mikey! Climb up!”

“I’m fucking stuck on the cable to prick!”

Trevor growled, and called up Franklin. “Kid! Michael is hanging out the side and fucking rockets are flying at me. Can Chop smell inbred hillbilly?”

“Already on it!”

Michael looked down at forest floor where he saw Chops running fast towards the hills and Franklin following beside him. He needed Franklin to find that last hillbilly before Michael fell, or the helicopter got hit. A passing thought was to just cut Michael off. Him hanging out of the chopper was making it unbalanced and Trevor wasn’t sure how long he could keep it steady. But he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t fucking do that. Now the thought was that if he didn’t save Michael right now, then he would fall to his death. Trevor wanted to hit his head against the glass in front of him until it turned red. 

“ _ FUCK!”  _ he yelled, unhooking himself from the seat, he put the helicopter on autopilot. He crawled over to the middle of the helicopter where the cable was fed from. He called out, “Don't worry Mikey! I’ll get save your fat ass!”

Michael just started screaming, Trevor hoped he was crying so he could make fun of him.

He grabbed the cable and pulled hard, using all of his strength to lift Michael backup. Over the comm, Franklin advised “We’re getting close! I can hear him gettin’ pissed about reloading so get ready to duck!”

“ _ Fuck shit!  _ Thank you Franklin!”

“Oh jesus christ I’m gonna fuckin’ die” Michael cried

Trevor wasn’t gonna to let that happen. He pulled hard, his muscles were aching, his palms were burning and sweaty. He wanted to look over the side to see how far away Michael was but he knew he’d probably fall out.

“They’re about to shoot!”

“T, just fly the fucking chopper!” Michael screamed

“What the fuck you’re not flying?” Franklin yelled

“It's on autopilot you miserable cunts!”

Just as he was sure that Michael was gonna drop or the helicopter was gonna explode, he saw Michael’s hand appear on the edge of the helicopter. He hoisted himself up, Trevor grabbed his arms and helped.

Once Michael was in the helicopter, Trevor jumped back in his seat and flipped the autopilot off. He could see the bright light coming and dipped the helicopter downwards. Michael screamed as he fell against the passenger seat, Trevor grabbed the collar of his shirt. “You are not dying on Trevor Philips International Airlines, I cannot afford a fucking lawsuit!”

Trevor tipped the helicopter back up, and held onto Michael until he got back in his seat. Michael was panting as he buckled himself back in, not saying anything, just “woooooooooooo”.

Awkwardly, Trevor patted the back of Michael’s neck “Sorry”.

 

Over the comm Michael and Trevor could hear gunshots. Michael was the first to respond, “Kid? Kid are you hit? Are you okay?”

Silence.

“Kid! Frank are you there?!”

Trevor looked at Michael panic. He kept screaming “ _ Kid! _ ”. 

Trevor didn’t say anything, just kept the helicopter steady. His mind automatically went to that he was going to have to kill every person who ever interacted with the O’Neils if the last redneck killed Franklin. He’d go on a bender, set whole town's on fire, leave no survivors except one that he’d tie to a pole covered in honey. Michael would do the same. 

There was only static, and then, “Fuck! It's done, he’s dead, pick me up!”

A collective sigh of relief was shared between Trevor and Michael. They shot each other brief glances, both smiling. “Alright, wave your hands we’re coming in. Are you hit?”

“Just grazed”

“God damn it Franklin! Are you even wearing a vest?”

“Its my arm!”

“Then  _ why  _ aren’t you wearing a goddamn jacket?”

Trevor interrupted, “What your mother means to say, son, is that we’re very proud but wished you’d make better safety decisions”

Michael rolled his eyes. 

 

As Trevor lowered the helicopter down to the ground, Franklin came running. He was holding Chops, unharmed, and put him in first. Chops automatically went to kiss Michael and get his slobber all over him. Franklin pulled him back and apologize, Michael lamented, “Its fine, Trevor does it all the time”

Once everyone was strapped in, Trevor pulled the helicopter back into the air. Michael turned around, asking to see the wound. It was really just a scrape, but he was still mad. “You know you’re gonna die with this lifestyle if you don't take fucking precautions”

“Man I don't need you to be lecturing me, I’m a grown ass man”

“Yeah Michael! Our son is all grown up!” Trevor added with a grin.

Michael shook his head, “Look kid, as far as I’m concerned, we’re still just having a very long fucking drink at a bar, it just happens to have moved to the desert. So you want to learn to survive in this fucking career you need to be better. And why the fuck aren’t you wearing a jacket anyway, it's fucking freezing tonight!”

“We’re in the middle of the goddamn desert, dude!”

“Its 40 fucking degrees out tonight!”

“I know right? My dick is gonna freeze. Ice cock. Cock Pop. Dick Pop. Hey Mikey, y--”

“No”

“Fine fuck you then” 

Then Trevor pretended that he was going to crash the plane into the sea, at which point Chops the dog pissed all over the Trevor Philips Enterprise Business Helicopter. 

 

Once they got back to the landing strip, the three found Ron sitting on the hood of a beat up convertible. “Trevor! I thought you could use a ride, I brought you the one from our neighbor you set on fire last month!”

“Allegedly” Trevor added, “Thanks Ron, Franklin you need a ride home?”

“Shit I’d appreciate it. Taxi back to LS is pretty pricy this time of night.”

“Great! Ron, take Franklin home and then I want you to blow this hunk of shit car up alright?”

Ron was glaring at Michael who was still trying to figure out  _ what  _ Ron was. Ron whispered to Trevor, “The lizard is staring right at me, Trev”

Trevor looked at Mikey and rolled his eyes. He yelled, “Ron! Franklin is a growing boy so drive him the  _ fuck  _ back to his house in LS so he can get some sleep, and then set this fucking car on fire. And if I have to repeat that one more fucking time I will eat  _ your limbs! _ ”

Ron beamed, “Okeydokey Trevor!”

Michael shook his head, mumbling “jesus christ” as he put a cigarette in his mouth.

As Franklin, Chops, and Ron began to drive away Ron called out, “Bye Crazy Trevor!”

“Later Nervous Ron”

Trevor turned to Michael illuminated by the moonlight and his cigarette. “Are you seriously gonna make me beg for a goddamn cigarette, M?”

“You’re the one always saying it's gonna kill me”

“Yeah well, I’m in a suicidal mood so c’mon porkchop”

Michael reached into his pocket and took out a Redwoods and his lighter.

 

The two sat on the runway smoking quietly, looking at the moon. 

Trevor's phone went off, “Ron says the kid made it home safe. He’s gonna set the car on fire and drive it off a bridge”

Michael let out a puff of smoke, relaxing his free hand on the cool road of the runway. “So what's Ron’s deal huh? He your indentured servant or did you kidnap his wife too?”

Trevor scoffed, “No! Jesus, Ron is just loyal, unlike  _ some people.  _ Why’d you always have to make me out to be such a fucking monster, dude?”

“Because I watched you eat possible human remains like, two days ago”

“ _ Possible  _ is the important word there. I’m very sure that that was just...a mammal.”

“A mammal?”

“Yes, Michael, a fucking Mammal, distinctly different from Reptiles”

“Is that suppose to be a jab at me?” He laughed

“I don't know” Trevor sighed looking away. He took a long drag from his cigarette. He had his legs crossed, bent over into himself. Michael stared at him again.

“You always stare, didn’t your mom teach you not to do that?” Trevor asked not looking back.

“She taught me to enjoy the scenery” Michael said nudging him. Trevor didn’t budge, he just sighed. 

“Mikey, did you think I was gonna let you die tonight?” Trevor finally asked. 

Michael thought. He was more focused on trying to hold onto the cable than whether or not Trevor was actually going to murder him. He wouldn’t want it to go that way, his mind automatically went to how terrified he would be to fall like that. Feel his skull concave into his brains before he died. It would be a mess, yuck. But would Trevor had done it? He wasn’t sure.

“Were  _ you  _ gonna let me die?” Michael asked back.

Trevor looked at him now, sizing him up. “I thought about it.” he admitted, “But I couldn’t do it”

Michael laughed, “Well I appreciate your honesty”

Just then a wind blew through the empty runway. Trevor shut his eyes, “Michael, did I tell you what I did when I found out that you had supposedly, ‘died’”.

“I...no, you didn’t” Michael was gonna trip over his words. He didn’t want to talk about North Yankton or whatever this was going to lead to. He was depressed enough as is. “Trev, can we drop it?”

“No Michael, we can't. Because while you had the luxury of flying to sunny Los Santos, I was on the run” Trevor explained, “Took me two days to cross the state line. I holed up in a shitty motel, bought enough dope to kill six grown men. And then I waited.”

Michael knew Trevor wasn’t done talking. He was reliving the moment in his mind all over again, trying to not relive the emotions he felt during that time.

“I was gonna kill myself Mikey. Then I found out Brad was alive, and well. Here we are” he recounted. “And little did I know, you were alive too.”

“Trev, I’m sorry I did that to you” Michael tried apologizing to Trevor at least six times a day, each time Trevor either ignored him or started a fight. He didn’t care, he did feel sorry, but he was never going to be able to make up for what he did even if they lived another 100 years.  _ As long as you lie to him, you cannot fix anything,  _ Friedlander was always whispering in the back of Michael’s mind things he didn’t want to hear.

“Look, I don't...I don't believe in self pity. But, fuck. I wasn’t lying...when I say that i’d kill for you, M. I was going to. Fuck, I banged my head against the walls so much I’m surprised that didn’t do it”

“You’ve always had a thick skull” Michael joked.

Trevor smiled briefly, it faded as he moved the cigarette back up to his mouth. Letting out a puff of smoke, “Glad my suicide attempt is a little joke for you. Michael, I would never hurt you. I need you to know that, as much as I  _ fucking  _ hate what you did to me, what you continue to do to me, I would never fucking hurt you, much less kill you.”

Trevor was looking at Michael now, his eyes locked with his. Michael instinctively grabbed Trevor’s shirt. He smelled like smoke now, but under it you could still smell Trevor Philips, he smelled like the sky. 

“I know. I know you wouldn’t.” Michael’s voice was broken from all the screaming. But he also felt like he was choking, choking again on all of his guilt and all of his lies, “And i’m sorry, for everything I do and keep doing. I want to make things better, T, I know I can't do it all the way, but...fuck.”

Michael let go of him moving his cigarette to his lips only to realize it was done, and had long since been out. He reached for his pack but could already feel it was empty. “Ah shit” he cursed. 

Trevor grabbed Michael’s chin, pulling him in, “C’mere sugar tits, open up.”

Trevor took a long drag from his cigarette and then let the smoke flow into Michael’s mouth. Michael wanted to keep the smoke in his lungs, another piece of T to keep. But he let it flow out of his nostrils, as he quietly stared at him.

“See something you like, shit lips?”

Michael grinned, “yeah”.

He leaned in to kiss Trevor’s lips.


	6. Interim: Blister in the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a while to be posted! I had to rewrite the entire chapter and i died. enjoy! <33

Michael always woke up earlier than Trevor. Trevor slept like a log, the complete opposite of Michael. Michael never dreamed, he only had nightmares and memories to relive, mistakes to watch again. He hated sleeping, but had an easier time when someone was next to him. 

Coincidentally, Trevor slept better when someone held him. It was the same thing as when he became upset and began hitting his head against things. Someone to hold him made him feel like he could relax enough to sleep as deep as he needed. 

Michael awoke in a startle, he saw Trevor in his dreams, in the motel he told him about. Fuck, he couldn’t deal with that. Trevor on his own like that, thinking that he’d lost everything. He didn’t want to see the image his brain decided to show him, and now it was gonna haunt him.

But in front of him was Trevor, snoring, covered in drool. Michael loved him like this, he loved him any type of way but especially this way. He could look and watch as long as he wanted, and Trevor didn’t have to know what a huge creep he was. 

Michael stared at Trevor sleep, gently caressing the side of his cheek. Trevor snored loudly in response, Michael held in a laugh.

_ I’m sorry, _ he thought to himself like he did every morning since he ended up in Sandy Shores.

He sat up, the time was 7:30am. He needed a pack of cigarettes and some food, but he didn’t want to wake up Patricia or Trevor. He sat up and gingerly snuck a pillow in between Trevor’s arms.

He put on a hawaiian shirt, leaving half of the buttons undone, and put some shorts on. This was becoming his signature look, thank  _ god  _ Trevor hadn’t caught on yet.

He kissed Trevor’s forehead, listened to him grumble sleepily “ _ mm i’ll eat you up cowboy _ ”, and then tip toed into the living area. He wrote on the small piece of notepad attached to the fridge, “Went out for cigarettes and grub. Call me if you need anything. -M”.

Michael enjoyed Los Santos for the sole reason that it was generally sunny. If he woke up at 7pm he would be greeted with pure sunshine bleeding into his bedroom. He always loved the heat, but Los Santos had a perfect mix of cool sea air and southern San Andreas heat. But Sandy Shores was vastly different.

The minute the sky started to turn blue again, it was bone dry in the Grand Senora Desert. The sun drowned you in its unadulterated heat and light. There was no cool air from the Alamo Sea, just lukewarm water to sit in while Michael tried to pretend he was at home in his pool. It was a genuine wonder to Michael how anything survived out here, well, except Trevor. He generally defied any natural laws, so him surviving out in the desert was no surprise to him. 

But Michael did not survive so well. He doused himself in sunscreen almost constantly, but still burned. He wore sunglasses almost constantly, but still winced as he attempted to leave a building. _ ”I ain't meant for this” _ , he’d groan as he watched Trevor thrive in the heat, usually while attacking Ron in the front lot wearing nothing but socks and underwear. 

Michael covered his hand with the bottom of his shirt to open the car door. He’d learned early on that unless he wanted burns in addition to all of his callouses, protection was key. But even then, it was a whole event to make the car sustainable to enter. Trevor had a garage, his truck only took up half of it. But the garage cooked the car even more, no wonder since it was made out of scrap metal and driftwood. 

Michael looked scornfully at Trevor’s Bodhi, without any windows it didn’t contain heat when you opened it. When Michael opened his car it was like being flashed with fire. And then he’d have to wait for it to cool down enough to enter. Normally it only took one cigarette to be safe to enter, but Michael was out and he was antsy. Patricia threw out the carton he bought on his first day out, so now he had to survive on one pack at a time. 

Instead he tried to distract himself by going on his phone, looking at the drive to the gas station for cigarettes and other roadside attractions. It only made a minute pass to do this.

Then God delivered a distraction, Trevor. 

Trevor came barreling out of the trailer, wearing one of Michael’s hawaiian shirts over his dirty t-shirt. He was searching the yard, a scrap of paper held tightly in his hands. Once he saw Michael he physically calmed down, his shoulders lowered and his posture straightened. 

“What, you got a list for me, T?” Michael smirked,

“Asshole!” Trevor shouted as he stormed through the front yard to the side of Michael’s car. He threw the scrap of paper at Michael who flinched. “Who says that? Who says ‘out for cigarettes’, Mikey?”

“Smokers? Jesus T, you know you should have better respect for your property. Littering is a nasty habit” Michael joked, but Trevor didn’t budge. “What is it?”

Trevor threw his hands up, and made a dash back inside of the trailer. Michael wiped the sweat from his brow while he waited, wondering what crawled up his ass. 

When Trevor emerged he had a suitcase and his keys. He tossed the keys to Michael, commanding “We’re goin’ on a roadtrip, Townley. Let's go”

Michael grabbed the keys, a mess of random bent pieces of metal that maybe opened doors too somewhere. The only ones that looked like they’d work on anything were marked, “KITCH”, “HOME”, “RON”, “BOD”. Michael fearfully remembered when him and Trevor shared the same car keys. A brief flash of Trevor crashing into Michael’s yard, the entire trunk missing. “I need to go buy cigarettes, alright? We can go do somethin’ later”

“This isn’t about  _ something!”  _ Trevor yelled throwing his suitcase in the back seat. “This is about me and you, Mikey boy. C’mon you’re driving, we can get your death sticks”

Michael sighed, slamming his car door shut. Trevor had hopped in the passenger seat, and thrown Michael’s door open. “ _ C’mon Sugar Tits _ ” he whined.

“Alright, alright, Jesus Christ” Michael groaned as he hopped in. The seat burned the bare skin behind his knees. As he winced, Trevor took his hand to shove the keys in the ignition. 

“Let's  _ go  _ Michael!”

“What’s your fuckin’ damage, bro?”

“My damage is that you aint got the right to call me ‘bro’, shit lips! Drive!”

Michael rolled his eyes. He told himself he didn’t want to know what was going on, it was way too early in the morning for that. Besides it's not as if Trevor was going to budge, Michael knew when he was being difficult. 

 

The nearest gas station was actually across the street from the trailer, but it was deserted. Trevor didn’t explain what had happened, when asked he’d just yell that he doesn’t keep track of his neighbor’s. Of course he could still be seen going across the street in the middle of the night to fill up his gas canister. 

So thanks to this, Michael got to drive a few blocks away.  _ A few blocks  _ meant around the corner and two blocks down, a quick walk if you were adjusted to the Grand Senora Desert Heat. For Michael, that walk was stupid, he didn’t even consider it. He took his car and went around the corner happily. This time of course it was in Trevor’s Bodhi, which had its own charm. 

If nothing else, Trevor at least had established himself in Sandy Shores. When folks saw his Bodhi barreling down the street they moved out of the way, something Michael wished extended to Los Santos rush hour. 

Michael couldn’t exactly remember when Trevor bought the Bodhi, it just appeared someday. Since then it was his trademark, as weathered and chaotic as he was. 

The floor was home to shell casings, plastic bags, empty lighters, and the sad excuse for sand that could be found along the Sandy Shores Beaches. Patricia couldn’t clean up the Bodhi because it was always more or less in use. Plus the Bodhi was  _ exactly  _ like Trevor, that you could clean it and try to make it look presentable but two seconds later it’d be covered in dirt and blood. 

Trevor reached in the backseat for the suitcase as Michael pulled into the convenience store. Michael raised a brow, watching Trevor wrap his arms around it like it was suppose to be some secret. He was going to ask, but then decided that he probably didn’t want to know. Before he got out of the car he grabbed the collar of Trevor’s shirt, spitting “This is the only fuckin’ place for me to get Redwoods in this place, you gonna stick it up?”

Trevor scoffed, “What you think I haven’t before?”

_ Not what I was looking for, T. _

He was already out of the truck and walking inside. As Michael walked inside he sighed, shutting his eyes and letting the air conditioning hit him. 

The clerk at the counter recognized Michael from his other shift and went ahead and grabbed the Redwoods for him, smiling at him as Michael came out of his AC appreciation coma. 

“Redwoods right?” The clerk asked. He was probably twenty years old, probably a Sandy Shores local. Michael tried to not think about him, but he did anyway. He could see him falling prey to Trevor Philips Enterprises easy. He didn’t look like he was a user yet, but Michael had seen the people in this town. His parents were probably users, he’d start up anyday now. He’d stay in Sandy Shores his whole life wasting away. 

“Yeah. How are you doin’ today?” Michael asked reaching for his wallet. Much to his surprise, he only found lint in his back pocket. 

A distant whistle made him turn around, Trevor holding up the wallet as he browsed the snacks. Michael clenched his fists, ready to say something, but he tried to hold back. “I can't complain you know. I’ll keep these up here when you’re ready”.

Michael went ahead and took that as his cue to go and get his wallet back. Trevor held it high in the air with one arm while securing the briefcase to his chest with the other. Michael reached up to grab it, but Trevor stood up on his tip toes. “Can you fucking wait a  _ second,  _ sugar tits?”

“When the fuck did you even take my wallet?”

Trevor ignored him, and walked around to the other aisle. There was coffee that was probably made days ago and had just been kept warm since. Michael thought of Bean Machine, how he never thought he’d miss a corporation so much. 

Trevor put the wallet in his pants, Michael could see it bulging behind his back. “Do I seriously have to fuckin’ fight you for my wallet?”

Trevor was looking at the tiny Sandy Shores tourist section of the store. Dusty t-shirts that advertised sunny beaches and endless legal recreational activities. Trevor went ahead and grabbed a bright blue cap that read,  _ “Lost My Heart in Sandy Shores”.  _ Trevor chuckled, dusting off the cap to place on top of Michael’s head, “Makes you look uglier than shit”.

“Thanks, T, really. Can I have my fuckin’ wallet now?”

“Hold on cowboy! I gotta get one for me too”, he grabbed the bright orange variant, covered in a thick layer of dust. 

“Are you fuckin’ high right now, dude? At least let me know so I know what i’m dealing with”

Trevor inhaled, scowling at Michael’s insinuation, which usually wasn’t far off the mark. “You know, I try to spend some good time with my pal, my  _ best friend,  _ and you make it into some drug filled adventure? As if that's a  _ bad  _ thing?”

“Trevor I need a cigarette”

“Alright addict, here” Trevor surrendered, handing Michael’s wallet back passively. Michael shook his head, heading to the register where the clerk had been cleaning his fingernails. 

“The hats too?” he asked.

Michael took it off his head, he could see that these things hadn’t been touched in years, not even the sun had seen them. Trevor probably knew, and would probably be peeved if Michael didn’t go ahead and buy them. “Yeah. _.. _ these too I guess”

Michael didn’t wait for the total before he had a cigarette between his lips, his lighter in hand. The clerk raised a finger to protest, but it was met with Michael glaring him down, blowing his first puff of smoke in his face. He sheepishly said, “$12.54”

 

Trevor was already back in the truck honking the horn waiting for Michael. “Can you  _ please!  _ Shut the  _ fuck _ up, T!” Michael shouted, already halfway through his cigarette. 

“What? I just wanted be the first person to tell you, that you look like a goddamn princess with that cap on” 

“Yeah, yeah” Michael waved him away, sitting down in the driver's seat. “Where we goin’ to next?”

“What? Oh! Harmony, just down the ‘68”

“Harmony? The fuck is in Harmony?”

“Nothing in Sandy Shores, now lets go Mikey!”

Michael took another drag of his cigarette as the truck sputtered while he attempted to get it going. Trevor slammed his fist down on the side of the truck, seconds later the Bodhi was roaring. 

As Michael pulled out to the roadside, he saw Trevor fishing around in a paper bag, the suitcase planted behind his legs. Michael attempted to catch a glance at what could be in the paper bag, but all he could make out were paper shavings.  _ Dont ask, just dont ask, just drive.  _

“A-HA!” Trevor cheered as he withdrew a black cassette tape, “You know what this is Mikey? You got any fuckin’ idea?”

“Please...T, I don't wanna drive to the sound of you fuckin’ old people”

“You’re one to talk” Trevor grumbled as he messed around with the cassette player lodged into the Bodhi. As the audio system sputtered out another tape, Trevor carefully and slowly pulled it out, before ramming the other one in. Michael anxiously waited.

And then there it was, that steady guitar strum. The tap of the drums. Trevor was already bobbing his head along, Michael couldn’t help but smile. “When I'm out walking / I strut my stuff / And I'm so strung out” sang the song that the two of them would scream along to driving down the freeway in the 80’s. The song that Michael would whisper when he and Trevor were high walking down the street holding hands. The song that the two of them got into bar fights with, that fueled their souls, that made them feel young again. 

“You fuck! You kept this tape?” Michael beamed, “I thought we lost it back in ‘98”

“No,  _ you  _ lost it, but as per usual, I picked up the pieces!”

“Oh did you?” Michael scoffed, “You fixed the Violent Femmes?”

Trevor wasn’t listening anymore, he was yelling at the top of his lungs along to the song, “Let me go on like I / Blister in the sun / Let me go on”

Michael remembered when he and Trevor first got their hands on this tape. They boosted this vintage convertible, tinted baby blue, white upholstery. It looked like the owner’s kid took it out on a date but didn’t pay enough attention to it. Next thing, Michael and Trevor were zooming down the freeway, the black tape playing. Michael barely knew any of the artists on it, but Trevor knew them all. That night Michael stayed up listening to the songs with Trevor who would explain who each band was before every song, cue the best parts, and show Michael how to headbang along. 

“Violent Femmes, The Pixies, The Clash, uh…” Michael tried to list off for Trevor now, who was surprised Michael knew anyone beyond the first set. “Sonic Youth! And...fuck!”

“Brian Eno!” Trevor groaned, “Well, four out of five,  _ maybe  _ i’ll give you a firm slap on the ass, Townley”

“Ah bite me, T. Its been a long time. Like, a  _ long  _ time for me”

Trevor remembered Michael Townley wide eyed with giant headphones, listening to  _ Gone Daddy Gone.  _ Trevor had hopped a fence to see the Violent Femmes, he breathed their music, hated them because he loved them so much. He wanted Michael to know them too, Trevor would eagerly ask at the end of every song, “So?”. Now Trevor didn’t need to worry, the two of them knew the songs by heart. Their voices were no better than they were before, they had horrible beat, but that just meant the volume getting cranked up higher.

 

They pulled into a tiny diner at a truckstop in Harmony that Trevor suggested. It was in view of the Penitentiary, Michael felt weary being so close by. He didn’t need to think about Brad, he would like to never think about him again, but Trevor made sure to bring him up plenty. Luckily for Michael, Trevor was preoccupied getting food in his body and holding onto the briefcase.

Inside of the diner were mainly truckers gulping down their meals before they needed to get back on the road. Everyone had situated themselves either at the counter or on the sides of the diner trying to avoid the sun’s heat as it cooked the retro style tables. Trevor went ahead and grabbed a menu from the waitress’ table and made a beeline for the booth in the farthest corner of the room. It was piled high with dishes from previous diners but he just started piling them onto the other table. “You know, we could’ve just sat at the  _ clean  _ table, Trev” Michael offered, he usually figured that when logic failed T it was because of his meth addled brain. So he tried to help, but as usual, it was waved off.

“Blah blah blah”

Michael sat down at the table while Trevor wiped it down with some dirty napkins left over. “Pretty enough for a princess” Trevor smirked throwing the menu at Michael.

Trevor sat up against the briefcase, scanning the restaurant. Michael didn’t bother giving him any attention and read the menu which consisted of basic diner foods. Burgers, sandwiches, omelets, and pancakes. He smiled as he read it over, a lightbulb going off. “Hey T, I know your order” He challenged. 

Trevor scoffed, “M, you think I drink  _ blood  _ for nourishment”

“Yeah, well I bet I could guess what your usual is here”

Trevor grinned, taking the challenge. “Fine, you order for me cowboy. I’ll order for you”

“It's a deal, but I swear to god Trevor if you special order a piss plate I’l--”

“ _ I  _ don't control the kitchen staff, alright!” Trevor crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. Just as he did an elderly waitress came by in a wrinkled dirty uniform with a nametag that read  _ “Eunice _ ”

“E-U-Nice, love of my life!” Trevor cried as she made her way over.

“T-R-E-Vor, the thorn in my side” She called back. She was an older woman, probably the same age as Patricia. But she was bone skinny, bleached hair and bright blue eyeshadow and pink lipstick. Michael could already see this was one of Trevor’s many crushes. “You gonna cause a ruckus in my Diner again, Philips?”

Trevor slapped his chest, letting out a pained cry, “You  _ wound  _ me, Eunice!”

“ _ No,  _ you wounded Earl last time you were in here, and nearly got me shut down killing two of my customers!”

“It was sunday!”

“ _ How is that an excuse? _ ” Eunice shook her head. She withdrew two napkins from her apron and furnished a set of silverware for the two. She smiled at Michael, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Well, well, well, arent you a sweet face? What chain of bad decisions put you in Trevor’s path?”

Michael chuckled, “Trust me, Trevor’s been a thorn in my side longer than you could guess, baby”

Trevor shook his head, “ _ Michael,  _ if anything, is the fucking thorn in my side. You know, I even got a fuckin’ knife he left in my goddamn back,  _ ten years ago!” _

Eunice laughed, slapping her leg. “Alright, alright, then since you seem to be apart of the Trevor Philip’s package, you gonna behave in my diner?” she asked Michael.

_ Trevor Philips Package comes with a pound of lead, two dead bodies, and a handful of meth,  _ Michael thought to himself with a smile. “Hey dont worry about me. I’m a gentleman”

“He’s a cocksucker, a  _ real  _ cocksucker” Trevor hissed

“ _ Hey,  _ now you be kind to your friend here, that goes for both of you! At least in my goddamn diner I ain't havin’ no fights back here or I’ll take your damn silverware away and give you two plastic spoons”

“Eunice, you sayin’ I couldn’t kill a man with a plastic spoon?” Trevor questioned,

“I’m  _ sayin’  _ that a plastic spoon would at least mean I wouldn’t be losing another damn set of silver” She shook her head, taking out her notepad. “You know what you boys want?”

“Oh yeah, I do” Michael grinned that shit-eaters grin at Trevor, “Mind if I whisper it to you? Got a little game goin’ with T”

Eunice complied, leaning in letting Michael whisper to her. She scratched some notes on her pad, and then went right side up again. “Trevor, you doin’ the same?”

“ _ Fuck that,  _ you know Eunice, I get Michael, okay? I get that h-he’s gonna keel over in a massive heart attack at any given second! I mean look at him! He’s  _ dying! _ ” Trevor cried.

“Trevor, what’ll it be” Eunice deadpanned.

Trevor grinned big, “Black coffee, and a Sandy Shores Surprise”

“The fuck is that?” Michael asked trying to find it on the menu, but came up short. He looked to Eunice with these eyes, begging her to cut him some slack. But Eunice was a neutral party, smiled watching Michael panic.  

“I’ll have those drinks out in a second. Trevor, you  _ behave  _ yourself” Eunice warned taking Michael’s menu. 

Trevor drummed the table, smiling as Michael tried to piece together what in god’s green  _ earth  _ could a ‘Sandy Shores Surprise’ be. But for all of his anxiety, Michael loved fucking with Trevor. He decided not to ask, to make Trevor angry that he was so disinterested. “So what, you come here to make trouble all the time?” Michael asked

“What?  _ Seriously?  _ You know I dont  _ make  _ trouble, Mikey, trouble finds  _ me! _ ”

“Oh yeah, like those inbred hillbillies who came after you after you burned down their farm and killed their brothers” 

“ _ They stole my contract! _ ” Trevor growled, “You could  _ at least  _ be on my side for once, Michael! I mean, here I am trying to a respectable businessman but these, these,  _ redneck fuckwits  _ started testing me!”

“Oh yeah, running crank is a very respectable business, T”

“Better than yours! I mean jesus, how do you  _ live  _ with yourself, Mikey!”

Michael raised a brow, “What’d you mean? I was retired”

Trevor laughed, “EEEEEEEEEH, wrong answer. I  _ know  _ you, Michael”

_ Jesus not this again.  _ “Can we have one fucking day where you dont talk about what a fuckin’ disappointment I am to you?”

Another younger waitress came by, giving Michael his coffee and Trevor a milkshake. Trevor raised a brow, sniffing the whipped cream. Michael reached in his back pocket for his beaten up flask of ass-warmed whiskey and slid it over to Trevor. “You like chocolate shakes with whiskey”.

“Asshole” Trevor was defeated, at least for now. He took a sip of the shake to make room for the alcohol, Michael rubbed the bridge of his nose when he felt tingly watching Trevor duck his head down like to suck on the straw.  _ You’re 48 years old can you get it together, Townley?  _

Trevor mixed the whiskey in with his shake and slid the flask back over. It was almost completely empty now thanks to Trevor. Michael poured the remainder into his coffee, Trevor decided to continue his rampage on how Michael had changed. “Y’know, you were never one for picket fences, Mikey”

“Yeah, thats why I moved into a spanish colonial mansion with a brick fence and hedges”

“ _ No,  _ Michael, what I mean is that for  _ aaaaaall  _ you try, you aren’t a fuckin’ suburbanite. You  _ like  _ trash, you like getting rough and dirty, and that's why I  _ know  _ you like runnin’ with me again. But you try and fail to pretend you ain't. But it aint possible brother, because we’re from the trailer park and we  _ stayed  _ in the trailer park, M. It don't matter if you change the background, you’re the same fuckin’ person who liked riding dirt bikes through the sticks while I shot at hillbillies chasing us.  _ You  _ just want to believe you’re not”

Michael scowled, “Thanks for the analogy, shit lips. Hey you know, I could say the same for you, but you aren’t even one for chain link fences, T”

Trevor put his hand on the briefcase lying back against the booth. “Oh really?  _ Enlighten me,  _ Michael”

Michael took a sip of his coffee, regaling in Trevor's anticipation. “You always  _ want  _ to belong in junkyards you know? Like Sandy Shores. It's a dump, filled with meth heads, and the cops are easy to pay off but put up a good fight every now and again if you want. But even then, it's not for you. You drift all over the state, end up on train tracks, asleep in a boat in the middle of the ocean, even that one time you woke up on top of Mount Josiah”

“I was  _ visiting,  _ friends” Trevor defended.

“You say you belong in Sandy Shores but I don't buy it. You  _ like  _ wandering around, you like drifting. You just want to believe that you belong in the trailer park because it's all you know”

Trevor let out a sarcastic cry of pain, slapping his fist on the table. “Michael, man, you’re  _ breaking  _ my heart!”

“Blow it out your ass” 

 

Eunice hand delivered the mystery plates to Michael and Trevor, carrying them on her arms, along with a plate of condiments. She gave Trevor a plate of pancakes with a smiley face made out of bacon and a fried eggs. Michael was given a hot plate of hashbrowns, sausage, and scrambled eggs, all arranged in a perfect phallus shape. “Sandy Shores Surprise, don't choke on it sugar” Eunice warned with a wink.

Michael broke down laughing, covering his face from Trevor who was grinning ear to ear.

They didn’t talk while they ate, Trevor choked down his pancakes not even trying to cut them or dip them in the syrup that Eunice brought. Michael ate his food with a fork and knife, occasionally chuckling “ _ Don't choke on it _ ”.

Halfway through the meal Trevor flinched, dropping his pancake and checking to see that the suitcase was still there. Upon checking that it was still safely against his back he continued eating as Michael raised a brow. “So, you gonna tell me what that's about?” Michael asked as he chewed on a sausage.

“Well Michael, its  _ business,  _ and since last I checked you don't even  _ respect  _ my goddamn kitchen so, where do we stand, Mikey?”

“Look T, I just need to know who's gonna come after us. Cops or Hillbillies?”

“None of your goddamn business, Michael”

Michael rolled his eyes, accepting the answer. “You still liking your pancakes?”

“Eh, why don't you go fuck yourself, Townley”

“C’mooon T, I won, I know  _ you. _ ”

“My fucking diner order isn’t  _ knowing  _ me, dipshit”

Michael laughed, taking another bite of his sausage. He knew he had won this battle of wills, he’d rub it in Trevor’s face later. “So what did happen here, huh? With the two dead, one wounded”

Trevor shook his head. “Look,  _ Eunice  _ knows me alright? She knows that if I come in by my lonesome, maybe a broken bat in my hand, that she gives me my  _ fucking  _ eggs and leaves me alone. Other folks? Noooo, they just  _ have  _ to be hero’s”

“What they ask what was wrong with you? And you had a meltdown because the immediate thought was tha--”

“If you wanna keep your fuckin’ tongue, Michael, you put whatever the fuck you were gonna say in the goddamn trash!” Trevor threatened with a pointed finger, “Look, Earl, was breathing down my throat, asking ‘ _ what’d they do? Was it a girlfriend’s boyfriend? Your boyfriend?’.  _ And you know, fuck what people assume about me, Michael, alright. They wanna talk about my  _ mom,  _ my  _ nation of origin,  _ my fucking  _ e-v-e-r-ything,  _ like they  _ know  _ me!”

“And then you had to put someone in their place?”

“Someone, yeah, I mean Earl. And the two guys who tried to stop me.  _ Fuckers _ ”

“Okay, okay but,  _ what  _ set you off? Him asking if you had a boyfriend? You got someone I should know about T?” Michael joked

“Hardy-Har, no. It was because that  _ fuck,  _ that  _ swine,  _ he called me a  _ motherfucker! _ ” Trevor spat. He was red faced and sweaty reliving the memory in his head, how he slammed Earl’s head against the side of the table, breaking his nose. He got him on his back and started punching, spitting as every punch landed on Earl’s face. Two truckers got up behind Trevor and grabbed him by his arms trying to restrain him. Trevor reacted by grabbing the butterknife off the table and stabbing it into one of their eyes, before he shot both of them. Eunice screamed as she ran over the scene, but Trevor had already escaped and was driving down Route 68. It was over as quickly as it started. 

“So, the rampages, those are still a thing?” Michael asked

Trevor twitched, lowering his head to eat his bacon. “Its not my fuckin’ fault, someone’s gotta teach ‘em manners”

“Doesn’t always have to be you, T. You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days. You know that super strength you get when you’re mad aint real right?”

“Fuck off”

 

After their meal they just rode up the Great Ocean Highway listening to their tape. Trevor took over driving after Michael tried to chainsmoke while driving. Trevor had his cap on backwards now, and Michael’s Ponsoby’s sunglasses on. Michael had accepted he wasn’t getting them back, If Trevor hadn’t marked them with some bodily fluid, it was apart of the Bodhi now and Trevor’s overall driving look. 

It was high noon sun now, and while they may have made their way out to the coast it was still hot out. They had made a quick stop out of the truckstop diner to buy  _ some _ whiskey, two bottles in fact. One for each boy.

Sonic Youth’s  _ Teen Age Riot  _ was bleeding out from the Bodhi’s beat up sound system. Trevor took a swig of whiskey, already red faced and a little tipsy from his milkshake back at the diner. Michael would’ve objected to Trevor driving drunk, but Trevor drove high more than he did sober, so Michael decided his fate was sealed anyway. “Hey, T, you remember the Sonic Youth concert we snuck into?” Michael asked,

“Well I wouldn’t call it  _ sneaking,  _ so much more as you fought your way through security” 

“Dont be pissy, I got you to the front of the arena didn’t I?”

“Yeah, yeah. But I got you into a god damn Kenny Loggin’s concert and saved you from getting into a fist fight with the whole fucking security team, what's your point?”

“Nothin! Jesus, just trying to reminiscence” 

“Yeah well I dont wanna do that, I’m old and i’m cranky, let me be that way”

Michael scoffed, “You’re barely fifty!”

“Fifty!  _ Je-s-u-s,  _ Mikey you gotta snap out of that Midlife Crisis and wake up and smell the impending doom of Jimmy and Tracey putting your ass in a home”

“Please. I’ve been retired for ten years, and frankly, I liked relaxing by my pool. I’ll just pay for a fuckin’ nurse to bring me my cane and my gun”

Trevor chuckled, glancing at Michael, “You still wanna be packin’ at that age? Thought you wanted to stay retired, get even more lame and annoying.”

“Well, you know me, I like to have fun”

_ I like to have fun.  _ It made Trevor laugh, Michael said that before. When he accidentally stabbed himself in the gut, his excuse was  _ “Well I like to have fun”.  _ The time he got into a fist fight behind stage at Kenny Loggin’s concert,  he rebuffed with that as Trevor drove the car away from the police.  _ I like to have fun,  _ was just Michael’s way of saying,  _ I do what I want stop judging me shit head. _

Once they got to North Chumash they turned around. They were still planning their heist in Paleto Bay, so making any trouble there was off the menu. Neither of them were stupid enough to go fuck around in the town they were about to hit. 

They turned around in Raton’s pass, both of them gave each other looks as they remembered their last time out here with Frank and Chops and Trevor’s “Business Chopper”.

As they waited for a chance to cut across traffic, a bright red Baller pulled up beside them. Trevor took another swing from his bottle of whiskey, looking over at the driver. Michael turned to see a middle-aged white yogi-type guy with a shaved head eying the two of them. Trevor was the first to rev his engine, Michael giving him an approving nod.  _ Been too long since we pulled some shit like this.  _ The other driver let his Baller roar under him, challenging, “This is second generation, you two really think you can take this?”

Michael turned his head to Trevor, “We gonna let this guy talk shit like this?”

“Like  _ fuck.”  _ Trevor crawled over Michael, lifting his shades up to get a better look at the man. He was obviously Los Santos type, arrogant, privileged. He probably got his dick sucked while he drove around the golf course and then complained when he had to wait to slow for pedestrians. Not that Michael or Trevor would mind either pastimes, but this guy, he  _ reeked  _ of bullshit. And Michael and Trevor wanted to fuck with him. “Whoever gets to Chumash sucks the loser’s dick”

He laughed, taking Trevor’s instructions as a joke. “Well, guess I’m getting serviced by a couple of seniors today”

“Seniors? We’re forty eight you turd” Michael spat.

The man threw back his head and laughed, speeding across two lanes of traffic, stopping cars on both ends. Trevor already had the Bodhi speeding behind him before Michael could yell for him to get on his ass. 

Sonic Youth droned on, completely dulling the moment. Michael ejected the tape and tuned to Los Santos Rock.  _ Danger Zone  _ blessed their race.

The other racer was still ahead of them, but the Bodhi was unstoppable, and Trevor didn’t adhere to traffic laws. He went driving on the opposite side of traffic, Michael screaming the whole time. “ _ Trevor,  _ I’m in the car!”

“And  _ I’m  _ getting ahead of this prick!”

Michael gripped tightly to his seatbelt as they went into the tunnel under Fort Zancudo. As they came neck and neck with the Baller, Trevor grabbed Michael’s sleeve and pulled him in as he rammed the truck into the side of the other racer. Michael took his hat off, glaring at the racer who was still sporting that shit-eaters grin. “T, you wanna do this clean?” Michael asked

“Is that a joke at my expense, Michael, because I could just flip this fucking truck over”

As they emerged from the tunnel, Trevor merged back into the correct lane of traffic, speeding ahead of the Baller. Michael withdrew his gun, to show Trevor. “Not yet, Mikey, not yet”.

Michael nodded, still unlocking the safety and laying back in his seat. The ocean was gorgeous that day, so endlessly blue, glittering like diamonds under the high noon sun. “I miss my boat” he sighed,

“ _ Excuse me?  _ Are we not in a fucking car race, Michael? Can we do the  _ ‘woe is me’  _ bit after we get our dicks sucked?”

“Dude, I don't want that guy suckin’ my dick. You see him?”

“ _ Aww,  _ little Mikey, are you jealous?” Trevor taunted, reaching out to pinch Michael’s cheek. Michael snapped Trevor’s hands away, groaning. “Look, Mikey, if it makes you  _ that  _ upset, I’ll take the blowie for  _ both  _ of us”

“Sure, and I’ll give you a ride to the free clinic” Michael deadpanned. 

Just as they saw the sign welcoming them to Chumash getting closer, the Baller came crashing into the side of the car. Trevor yelled out, Michael already had his gun out. He took a deep breath as he aimed for the front tire of the red Baller, Trevor steadying the Bodhi to give him an advantage. “The fuck are you doing?!” The driver yelled as Michael pulled the trigger. 

Michael watched as the Baller swerved behind them, the driver barely having enough time to realize what had happened. Michael gripped Trevor’s shoulder, his brows furrowed, as the Baller fell over the side of the road, down a hill onto the beach. “ _ T, pullover!” _

“Why? Car’ll explode anyway, not like we touched him or anything”

“ _ Trevor! _ ” Michael commanded. 

“ _ Alright,  _ jesus! But anything happens, that's on you Townley”.

Michael didn’t need to see much, just a verification that he saw what he thought. The car was flipped upside down, windows shattered. Michael just stood in the tire marks where it slipped from the road, to the shoulder, to the wilderness. He wasn’t worried so much that the man had died, or that they’d get caught, he just needed to see that he could still do something like this just with a single bullet. 

Trevor made his way down the small hill leading to the beach holding the briefcase and a container of gasoline. “Where the fuck are you going?” Michael groaned,

Trevor turned, holding up his lighter, “I’m throwin’ a bonfire, coming?” 

_ Not like I have anywhere else to be.  _

 

The car was already about to explode when Trevor started pouring gasoline on it. Michael just sat on a nearby rock, looking down the empty beach. This part seemed to be the dirtiest part of the beach, plenty of trash from the highway found its way into the sand. Civilians noticing weren’t a problem, the army was. Their base was just across the river, and Michael was watching the skies. 

“Alrighty, wanna say any words, M?” Trevor asked as he threw the canister inside the broken window. Michael watched Trevor carefully place the briefcase under the head of the driver’s dead body, attempting to cusp the driver’s fingers around the case. 

“Yeah, the fuck is in the briefcase, T?”

“None of your fuckin’ business!” Trevor growled as he stood up from the sand, dusting his knees off. He looked up at the skies, no planes yet, so it needed to be now. He held out his hand, Michael handed him a handful of leaves. “The fuck is this?”

“Tinder, for the fucking car!”

“You could  _ at least _ value this poor man’s life to sacrifice a goddamn cigarette, Mikey. I mean this man  _ died  _ in the noble pursuit of trying to outrun the Bodhi!”

_ Outrunning, he was driving an SUV, we were driving a truck.  _

Michael took out his piece and shot a single bullet in the sand, igniting the gas. “Can we go?”

Trevor rolled his eyes, “Turd”

 

They drove out to Chumash and walked along the historic pier. It was one of those idyllic piers you’d imagine in the movies. Painted white to hide the bird shit, benches for tourists to sit at, a restaurant on both side. But Michael nor Trevor were dressed for the booshie sea-side restaurants trying to imitate the Los Santos ones that were just as shitty. 

Michael and Trevor sat in one of the benches with their whiskey bottles in hand, sharing a cigarette as they watched the boats pass by. Trevor had his arm around the bench, but away from Michael. Michael had splayed himself out to keep anyone from asking if they could sit with them. 

“So, you said you use to have a boat?” Trevor asked,

“What? Yeah, why? You gonna call me a turd for that too?”

“ _ Jesus  _ dude, I’m just trying to make some conversation, bro.”

Michael shook his head, “you wanna make conversation? What was in the briefcase?”

Trevor smirked, “What briefcase?”

Michael rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his nostrils. Trevor bent over and poked the tip of Michael’s nose. “You know, I hate you, T. I really,  _ truly,  _ hate you” Michael breathed. He didn’t know why the words were coming out now, but the venom barely nipped Trevor who just laughed.

“Buddy, pal, if only you knew  _ how often  _ I thought about putting one between your eyes. For me? It’d be a blessing, you’re like a bad smell I can't get rid of, wasting away on my couch” Trevor jabbed back.

Michael shook his head, smiling softly, realizing what it was. “Yeah? Well I think about smothering you with your fuckin’ pillow. Then I remember how paper thin they are since for some fuckin’ reason you think newspaper counts as a cushion”

“ _ Oh, oh!  _ Excuse me, I’m sorry I dont have the all natural organic feathered pillows you  _ love  _ so much. I’m sorry I don't have a fucking boy assistant to fluff my fucking pillows, you bourgeoisie asshole!”

“What the fuck are you even talking’ about?” Michael was laughing, wiping a tear from his eyes.

“Fuck if I know man, I didn’t go to Los Santos for my fair trade coffee enema’s and then melt in the sun for ten years” Trevor started shaking his leg, scratching the back of his neck. Michael could tell he needed a fix, it’d been a few hours, but Trevor wasn’t making a grand exit to go do it. He just sat there sweating, drinking his whiskey.

Michael looked at his hand on the bench, gripped into a fist. Michael reached over, holding Trevor’s hand in his, covering the scorpion around Trevor’s hand. Trevor allowed him, shutting his eyes. “You’re a real turd, you know that?” Trevor groaned, “Things ain't never going to be like they were, Sugar Tits.”

“Yeah, I know. I pulled a dick move, I know”

“ _ A dick move? _ ” Trevor scoffed, pulling his hand back. “ _ Brad  _ is in  _ jail.  _ I spent ten years alone! And now you just stroll in? Live in my trailer, eat my food, and you don't even  _ tell me the truth. _ ”

“Hey, I didn’t want to crash at your place but you stole someone’s fucking wife!” Michael spat, hoping to move the conversation away from Brad, North Yankton, the obvious.

“Y’know what I’ve been trying to figure out all this time, Michael? I’ve been trying to figure out why you did it, why on  _ earth  _ you screwed us like that! At night, I lay in my bed, wondering, ‘ _ Why did I let the Michael fuck me?’  _ and the answer never comes to me”

“Yeah well, it  _ use  _ to come to you” Michael nervously laughed.

Trevor didn’t think it was as funny. He’d been trying to get answers for so long, he’d wondered for years about North Yankton. There were questions in his head he told himself he’d never have answers for. And then Michael appeared, holding all of the answers, but keeping them from Trevor. It was driving him insane, he wanted to crack open Michael’s skull and find the answers buried in his brain. 

But instead he settled for storming down the Pier, back towards the Bodhi. Michael trailed behind him, calling his name. Other Tourists turned their heads to listen in, trying to figure out what was eating at the two of them. One old couple whispered,  _ “How San Andres!” _

As Trevor made it into the Bodhi he sat in the passenger seat, opening the glove compartment for his leather bag. Michael jumped in the driver's seat, knowing Trevor wasn’t going to unlock the doors for him. “We can still have a nice day, alright T? Just simmer the fuck down”

Trevor kicked at the truck, spitting out, “Its not  _ nice,  _ Michael! It's never going to be nice! Because you’re fucking dead! You died out in North Yankton, and now I don't even  _ know  _ who you are! You’re a fucking ghost!”

Michael took a deep breath, trying to find his center, trying so hard. He tried to imagine waterfalls, quiet countryside meadows, his pool in Los Santos.  _ Remember Michael, our emotions are always valid, it's our actions that may not be,  _ echoed Friedlander in his head. But it was lost to him, he grabbed Trevor by his shirt collar and held him in close. “You fucking listen to me, Philips. I am  _ trying,  _ you got me? I’m keeping your ass alive, I’m out here trying to have a nice fucking time, but  _ you’re  _ the one insisting on being a cunt. So you can have your fucking temper tantrum and tell me how i’ve changed and I’ll punch you in the throat. Or we could do some coke, and go take some fucking pictures in that photo booth by the pier, and do what we said we were going to do, and  _ pretend  _ things weren’t weird.”

Trevor tried to stay mad, but he wasn’t. He gripped Michael’s shirt, pulling him in for a hard kiss. Michael forced his tongue inside of Trevor’s, grasping his neck in his hand. Trevor laughed into Michael’s mouth, resting his forehead against Michael’s. “You insinuating that I’m carrying, cowboy?” Trevor chuckled.

“I know you”.

 

That night Michael couldn’t sleep. He sat on the edge of the bed, listening to Trevor snore beside him. In his hands he held their pictures, their photo from Alberta in 1990, and their photobooth pictures from their day today. He examined how they had aged, how Michael’s eyes had gotten tired, how Trevor’s brows had gotten heavier. But despite it all, they were still affectionate in their new photos. In the first picture, Trevor was licking the side of Michael’s head, while Michael in a motion blur pushed him away. In the second they had their arms around each other laughing, holding onto each other’s shirts. In the last, Michael went in to kiss the side of Trevor’s lips, just as he did back in Alberta years ago. 

He tried to imagine what twenty year old Michael Townley and Trevor Philips would say if they saw what they’d look like in another twenty years. Michael would probably make a fat joke, Trevor would talk about his future tattoo’s. 

_ When’d we get so old?  _ Michael thought about how him and Trevor would lay in the back of the Bodhi when they were kids. They imagined when they’d retire rich, be grouchy assholes in a fancy beach house, terrorizing young kids and their neighbors. It was always implied that they’d always be together, no matter what happened. That was what Michael so sad, that after all this time he tried to stay away, he just ended up with Trevor Philips again. And while they got to terrorize their neighbors, Michael wanted to torch Sandy Shores.

Trevor rolled over, wrapping his arms around Michael sleepily. “You smell like shit” he murmured.

“Yeah, yeah, go back to sleep” Michael sighed as he patted Trevor’s hair, “I’ll be here when you wake up”


	7. Military Hardware

The sun was already setting over the Grand Senora Desert while Michael waited for a call from Dave. He was sitting against the hood of his car, debating if he should have another cigarette. He was beyond stressed out and god knew he needed it but even he was starting to feel shitty from smoking them all the time now. 

He knew that Dave was going to ask something impossible, or try to get Michael to do more than he was already doing. It's not as if planning to rob a bank watched by dirty cops so that they could afford a heavy duty helicopter to steal nerve gas from terrorists wasn’t  _ already _ something for him to worry about.

He tried to keep set goals in mind to keep him sane and maybe ward off any possible heart attacks. He just needed to steal a truck of Military hardware from the army tonight with Trevor and hopefully make it back to the Meth Lab without becoming a wanted enemy of the state. After that he’d go back to T’s trailer, drink some beer until he forgot who he was, and then pass out.  _ Easy, right? _

His phone started vibrating, he clicked answer call. 

“Dave” he answered

“Michael, I need an update. Do you have the chopper yet?”

_ Jesus just straight to the point, thanks Dave.  _ “No, fuck, look we’re getting the money together. We just need time”

“Time is something we can seldom afford right now Michael”

“Yeah well I can  _ seldom  _ afford a fucking heavy duty chopper, alright Dave?”

“Heavy  _ Rotor  _ Chopper”

“Yeah yeah whatever, hop off my dick alright?” Michael took a deep breath, but Dave kept going.

“Michael, look I’ve known you for ten years now, right?” Dave asked, “And since it's my life on the line, and I gotta ask: Has Trevor figured anything out.”

“No, fuck. I think...I think he’s getting there, I-I can't keep lying like this Dave. I think it's  _ literally  _ killing me, I have like six new grey hairs and I’m naming them after you two chucklefucks”

“ _ Michael _ ” Dave warned, “Trevor Philips cannot know about what happened in North Yankton. Do whatever you need to get yourself to quiet your conscious because I promise you, if Trevor finds out you’ll do no one any favors, and the FIB needs all three of you right now.”

_ Need us to do your dirty work, sure. Blackmail me? Sure!  _

“I know, Dave, I know. I just, fuck.” Michael bit his lower lip, thinking. “Look, I gotta go do something so I can buy the fucking feds a brand new helicopter alright? Give me a week at least and we’ll be ready to move.”

“We’ll be watching, Michael”

“Yeah yeah, i’ll just go fuck myself, whatever”

Dave hung up and Michael remained against his car. He wanted to tell Trevor, it was like everyday he was choking on his own guilt and lies. He felt different in Sandy Shores, like he was finally fixing things. But he knew things were never going to be like they were if he didn’t tell Trevor what happened in North Yankton, why it happened, and what happened after. It was easier when he at least had a pool to swim in, to pretend he didn’t mind the guilt. He could lie so easily now, it was second nature. But he had to deal with the lies, and it was killing him.

There was no avoiding the inevitable. For now Michael’s hands were tied, and even so, when the time came and Trevor found out he’d still be a dead man. Any repairs he made in Sandy Shores would fall apart because Michael let Trevor believe that they were going to be okay. 

As Michael contemplated he heard the roar of motorcycles in the distance. He turned his head to see three bikers rolling up on the side of the road, ‘Lost MC’ stitched into their leather. 

Michael sighed, put his iFruit on shuffle. Real Life’s  _ ‘Send Me An Angel’  _ played.

 

Trevor sat on the porch loading magazines for his pistol while he waited for Michael. The two of them had planned to attack a Military convoy to get what they needed for the heist. Trevor in particular was more than excited to attack the Military in anyway possible. He pretended that he was apart of the Army in some way, and he was killing the troops of the enemy.  _ Well, they are the enemy, in a way, shitbags anyway,  _ Trevor would tell himself.

He heard the roar of a motorcycle approaching. Instinctively he shoved the magazine into the pistol and darted out to the middle of the road. In one hand he held his switchblade, in another he held his gun up. The high beams blinded him, but he shot off anyway. 

The motorcycle swerved to the side of the road, a man jumping from his seat before it crashed into the side of the building across the street. Michael, standing up from the ground, breathed, “Jesus christ, Trev! You could’ve killed me!”.

“Thats your own damn fault lard ass!” Trev shouted as he ran towards Michael, helping him up. “Driving down my fuckin’ street with that fucking piece of machinery? Are you out of your goddamn  _ mind _ ?”

Michael laughed, “A little”.

Trevor rolled his eyes, looking at the motorcycle resting against the building. It wasn’t in too bad a shape, well there were bullets in the thing and obviously it was scraped up, but still alright. “So you are officially going through your midlife crisis where you buy a motorcycle but you’re too fat to keep it straight and end up riding it into the nearest bridge?”

Michael walked back over to the bike and lifted it up, “Honestly, yeah. You wanna go?”

“ _ Go?  _ Michael we have to go steal a truckload of Military equipment in, fuck,” Trevor checked his imaginary watch on his arm, “Now”

“So we take this!” Michael beamed. He was already sitting on the thing, and he was smiling at Trevor like it was christmas morning and he just got a new bike. 

“So you want to sneak up on a couple of soldiers in the loudest fucking vehicle created by man? That's what you want to do, Michael?” Trevor asked

“Your Bodhi aint exactly quiet either, T”

Trevor threw his hands up, “You know what, fuck it. Let's go.

Trevor sat behind Michael, wrapping his arms around his waist. He cupped a hand around Michael’s chest, saying “ _ Wonk wonk” _ as he squeezed it.

“You’re such a twelve year old” Michael sighed.

 

Michael had his iFruit blasting  _ Witchy Woman _ over the sound of the motorcycle engine. Trevor watched the streetlights pass them, the moon following them. He felt familiar on the back of the bike, he’d use to ride this way with Michael when they first started.

Michael use to always ride a bike when they started out. It was the least practical thing, but he loved it. He wanted to be cool, T thought it made him look like a wannabe. 

But he also loved it. It was a beat up motorcycle they lifted from a gas station one day in the middle of the summer countless years ago. Trevor saw Michael eyeing it as they pulled up in their beat up sedan, they’d been driving all night trying to get to the next town before their next heist a few days later. Right away Trevor grabbed the owner of the bike and threw his face against one of the concrete pillars, yelling at Michael to grab the bike.

They rode down the highway side by side, racing each other. 

Now it was just the two of them, on another stolen bike. They were older now, more tired but still fighty. 

Trevor squeezed Michael, laying his head on M’s back.

Michael felt him, and smiled to himself. He pretended for a second that this was how things would always be, and not how they  _ could’ve  _ been.

 

They came upon the bridge they planned to set up the robbery on. Michael parked the motorcycle on the side of the road, while Trevor stood in the middle waiting for a car to come. They still had time, according to Lester the convoy came every few hours and took two hours to reach their destination. This was enough in the middle of rural no where that no one would be able to see them shooting down the military and they could get away. 

An RV came barreling down the road towards Trevor. He held his arms up in the air trying to get the driver's attention. The RV came to a halt, Michael just stood on the side of the road watching. The driver, an older man, probably in his early sixties or late fifties, got out. He had this sad handlebar stache that was turning grey and a bald head he tried to cover up with a trucker’s hat.

“What's the problem brother?” The driver asked, glancing at Michael in the distance.

“Well you see, Tex” Trevor started in his fake accent, his switchblade behind his back “Me and my uh...brother were doin’ a cross country trip, you know? But damn democrats in congress raisin’ our fuckin’ oil prices man!”

The driver nodded. “You two a couple of homosexuals?”

Michael laughed into his hand. Trevor breathed hard. 

The way he said it.  _ Ho-ma-sex-ya’lls.  _ Trevor laughed, trying to calm himself down. He reached out to put a hand on the driver, trying to get some common ground back. The driver pulled back, flinching into a fighting stance. “You stay the hell away from me! I don't want your goddamn HIV!”

Michael took out his piece, Trevor was gonna draw this out, and while Michael would love to beat the shit out of this guy, now wasn’t the time. He could sneak up behind him, tie him up like a present, and the two of them could beat the shit out of him later. 

“Look pal, you got a fuckin’ problem with me?” Trevor started, “Because I am a god damn business entrepreneur! I contribute to fucking society! I love my mother, and I wake up every morning by jacking off to Uncle Sam.”

The driver was already backing up when Trevor raised his switchblade above his head to strike. Michael, who was already trying to sneak over, changed his course.  _ Well, Murder is our distraction I guess.  _ Michael moved behind the driver, sneaking up behind him and grabbing him by the neck, holding him for Trevor to stab.

“ _ I am a proud fucking bisexual, you inbred hillbilly fuck! I’ll fucking infect you, I’ll fucking kill you! Its because of people like you, that thousands of men and women died during the AIDS epidemic you sick fuck! I was alive during that fucking crisis you turd! I watched my friends die you piece of shit! _ ” Trevor yelled as he ran his knife into the driver.

Michael let the driver go once Trevor grabbed the guy by his collar. Michael watched Trevor throw him to the ground and stomp on his face. He just watched as Trevor went into full rampage mode. “Hey Trev...Trev!” Michael called

“ _ What?! Michael?!”  _ Trevor shouted, as he sat on top of the dead body, ready to tear the guy’s chest open. 

“I’m moving the RV, just keep doing what you do alright?”

“A-A-Affirmative!” 

 

Michael had turned the RV around, halfway around the bridge, leaving enough space for a truck to go through. Trevor carried the body of the driver out in front of the RV, the trail of blood communicating further investigation. The hope was that the soldiers would take an active interest in what happened to their fellow american and go behind the RV, where Michael and Trevor would ambush them

But Trevor was still in Rampage mode. He was twitching, punching the RV as Michael stood watch. 

“Hey can you knock that shit off, Trev? Fuck dude, you’re giving me a headache”

“Oh i’m  _ sorry  _ Michael, look I just finished taking out one of the plights of our society! And I want  _ more! _ ” 

Michael sighed, deciding to ignore him. 

“You know man, you changed!” Trevor continued, hungry for a fight.

“Yeah yeah, came back from the dead, changed my name, my hair…” 

“No, Mikey!” Trevor yelled, “What the fuck happened to you! Couple of people called you homo once I saw you take out an entire bar of people! Now what, you’re too tired?”

“No, I’m focused on the job, T. I don't know if you noticed, but I was trying to grab the guy so we could fuck him up later because now ain't the time for that.”

“But you let me do it!” Trevor exclaimed, “Let me do the dirty work huh? S-Something too fucked up? T can do it!”

“You’re itching for a fight, Trev. I’m not giving it to you, save it for the army”

“You know my fucking correctional office said the same god damn thing to me before I enlisted!”

Michael turned to Trevor. He knew he needed a fight, but a fight was on its way. Trevor couldn’t wait and he wanted to fight Michael. Michael wasn’t playing that game.

He grabbed the collar of Trevor’s jacket and pulled him close. “Hey, I fucking love you, alright?” Michael whispered harshly. “Someone wants to fuck with you, they fuck with me alright? I held him right?”

Trevor took a deep breath, he stayed quiet, nodding. When he lost it, very rarely could anyone reign him in. Michael could do it, just sometimes, but as they got older he got better at it. Now he knew, he just needed to validate him, and Trevor was good.

“Alright, then do me a favor, and calm the fuck down for five fucking minutes and then you can go fucking nuts on those private Army dicks” Michael promised.

He leaned in to kiss Trevor who held him closer.

Michael and Trevor always joked that the other was so needy. Michael chalked up Trevor’s attention issues to his mother, Trevor traced it back to Michael’s father. But when they kissed like that, it was equal. Neither wanted to let go first, they wanted to stay like that, loving each other, never letting go. 

They stayed behind the RV kissing until they heard the cars rolling out. Trevor let go, getting his gun ready, licking the blood from his cheek. Michael slung his rifle around and watched the cars move through the scope. “Two military Jeeps, one in the front the other in the back. Truck is in the middle” Michael yelled to Trevor.

“How many heads we got?”

“Five in the front car, one in the truck, I can't see how many in the last one”

Trevor growled, taking the safety off. 

“Get to the hill, Mikey, but leave some for me” 

“Got it. I’ll be on via comm”

 

Michael laid on the hill closeby the bridge as Trevor kneeled behind the RV. The military convoy rolled up, as planned the soldiers in the front Jeep came barreling out, guns and all. “They’re on the move, taking a shot on the closest one to the RV” Michael said, focusing on the first Soldier about to find Trevor. Pulling the trigger the guy fell back, his dead body landing on another soldier. 

_ “I’m goin’ in! Cover me! _ ” Trevor yelled as he used the distraction to grab the dead body and hoist it up in front of him as a shield. He shot the soldier on the ground in the face while Michael took out one other as well as the Jeep driver to keep him from running away. 

_ “FUCK! _ ” Trevor yelled into the comm

“What? What is it?!” Michael shouted

“Fuck, nothing, I’m hit, its fine” 

Michael moved his scope to see Trevor ducked by the Jeep clutching his arm. “Hold on, T, I’m coming down!”

“No! Just, fuck! Tell me how many we got left!”

Michael tried to see the other Jeep but no one had come out. Frustrated he got up, and ran more up the hill trying to get a better view. Once he got up there he could see one Soldier coming up around the van. He could hear him yelling, “Put your hands in the goddamn air or we will shoot!”

_ Fuck, fuck! This is bad, FUCK!  _ He thought to himself, taking the shot. 

Giving up, Michael sprinted down the hill towards the bridge where Michael had grabbed the new downed Soldier as a shield and lifted himself up, shooting blindly at the other jeep. 

Michael was sprinting as fast as he could as he practically tumbled down the hill. He ran past the RV, past the bodies and grabbed Trevor by his jacket and threw him backwards. 

Two soldiers were hiding behind the Jeep, he could see the tops of their helmets. Michael climbed on top of the Jeep and made quick work of them in one second each. 

In the distance he could see a sniper, one that got away and was situated behind a rock across the road. He could hear the sound of the bullet being released, but he was already laying on the ground. “ _ M! _ ” Trevor called after him,  _ “Fuck if you die on me! _ ”

“ _ Shut up T! I’m handling it! Get in the fucking Van! _ ” 

Michael got up from the ground, looking at the water under the bridge. Taking a deep breath, trying to meditate for two milliseconds, he jumped off the bridge and landed in the mud. He let out a yelp as his legs hit the ground, his knees were getting too old for this shit, just like the rest of his body. He crawled up the side of the river, ready to go for behind the rocks and take out the last guy, than him and T would drive back to the lab and look at Trevor’s wound. 

But as Michael came upon the rock he found it empty. Bewildered, he turned around searching the dark road for the last Soldier. That was when he pushed over, a man holding him down, gun to his head. “ _ Take the shot you fucking degenerate! _ ” Michael yelled.

Following that he felt something warm fly into his face, it ran down the sides of his cheeks. He shut his eyes, but he could smell it, blood. 

He sat up, pushing the soldier off of him. 

Trevor was panting in the van, he’d driven in reverse and shot the guy from the passenger seat. “M! M! Are you alive?! M!”

“Yes! Jesus christ T!” Michael yelled back, standing up. 

He got in the driver's seat and floored it past the RV. He looked at Trevor who was holding his arm, his whole left side was soaked in blood. He was looking tired, drained. Michael inhaled sharply, offering, “T, you see the RV in your mirror?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Watch this”

Michael took out his phone, dialing a number. Six seconds later Trevor watched as the RV exploded, taking out the military jeeps, and the bridge down with it. He laughed, “You always know how to get me goin’, sugar tits”

 

When they got to the lab, Michael drove the car behind the gas station. Trevor was resting in the passenger seat still, exhausted. Michael opened the passenger door, picking up Trevor and carrying him to the lab. “Jesus, T, you callin’ me fat? Jesus christ dude”

“Michael I’m fuckin’ bleeding out.  _ When  _ do the fat jokes  _ end  _ with you?”

Michael laughed, trying to think of how the fuck he was gonna fix this.

 

Michael struggled to get Trevor up the stairs, he was panting, sweaty, and the smell of cat urine did him no favors. Trevor just weakly laughed in his arms.

Once they got to the top floor, Michael tried to keep Trevor against a wall while he threw his jacket on the ratty mattress in the corner for Trevor to lay on and hopefully not get an infection. 

“Just wait here, alright? Dont fuckin’ move” Michael instructed, watching Trevor try to force his eyes open. 

“Ooo, cowboy you gonna take me here? In the middle of a meth lab? I’m about to pass out sugar tits, that makes the whole thing less sexy”

Michael sighed, he was already in a panic. He stood up, trying to find something,  _ anything.  _

“First aid kit, next to the window, green pouch” Trevor shouted.

Michael found it under a pile of actual trash, but the bag seemed relatively untouched. It was still in the original plastic it came in, instructions and all. He ran back to Trevor who had his eyes shut.

“T, you still with me?” Michael asked desperately, “I need you to talk to me alright? Just talk to me, so I know you’re still here.”

No answer.

“ _ T! _ ” 

Trevor laughed, “What you want to hear about  _ me _ ? I wanna hear about  _ you _ , Mikey”

Michael fished through the bag. There was a few tabs of rubbing alcohol, gauze, medical tape, ibuprofen, and other items he didn’t need. He found a needle and thread at the bottom of the bag in a plastic container. He fished them out, and laid them out on his jacket next to T along with the rubbing alcohol tabs and gauze.

“Michael, did you miss me?” Trevor asked.

“Jesus christ, Trevor I’m trying to save your fucking life! Yes, I fucking missed you”

Michael used one rubbing alcohol tab to rub on his hands, the other on the wounds. It was a straight through, an easy fix, but Trevor was a bleeder. He shoved some gauze in the hole to try and stop the bleeding. He’d fixed Trevor up enough times now, the wound on T’s stomach was proof of Michael’s botched medical care that he usually learned on the job.

“No, Michael. Did you miss me when you pulled that job, a few months ago...the jewelry store?” Trevor continued, “Is that why you did such a shitty job?”

Michael’s hands were shaking. He kept trying to thread the needle but he kept missing. Each attempt made his blood boil while he tried to keep an anxiety attack away. “Trevor, just...tell me about one of your fucking bands, alright?”

“No, Michael. You wanted me to find you, didn’t you?”

Michael got it through, tied the thread. He grabbed Trevor’s arm, looking at the wound again. It had pierced just under Trevor’s tattoo of Michael’s name, his  _ real  _ name. Not the fake one he told his neighbors when he use to pack up shop and move somewhere new with his family. He’d been so many Michael’s in his life, Michael Greene, Callahan, Dunne, Davis, Osten. In one solo stint when he and Trevor got seperated for a few months, he went by Philips. But he always wanted to forget himself, he hated himself so much, it didn’t matter which version of him he was. 

Michael Townley was white trash from the trailer park. His father beat him, his mother gave up on him. He use to pretend that the private eyes in the Vinewood classics were his long lost fathers who would save him from the trailer park. But they never came, instead his father left him and his mom. He became a football star, but no one cared, not even the colleges. No one gave a shit about Michael Townley, he could die and no one would’ve cared. Then he met Trevor, and Michael Townley became someone to be remembered, someone that Trevor mourned and tattoo’d into his arm and recounted their adventures together on the daily before he found out that Michael Townley was a liar.

He hated Michael Townley the most out of all the Michaels. He wished he could be a better man, but saving Trevor’s life would have to be it.

“Trevor just...please...Are the Violent Femmes still around?i”

He started sewing the interior of the wound. Nothing major had been pierced, but Trevor was always,  _ always,  _ a bleeder. “Michael, I’m fucking bleeding out. Can you fucking answer the question?”

Michael swallowed hard, trying for once to not stare at him. “Look, T...I don't...I don't like myself, okay?”

“I didn’t ask how much you hate yourself, Michael. I already know, genius.”

“I was so fucking bored, my family hates me, T. I spent all day by the swimming pool, and then...I fucking lost it, I pulled a house down a hill, that's how I met Martin. Then I owed him money, and I needed to pay him fast.”

Michael cut the thread, getting ready to sew the entrance and exit wounds. “Michael, I didn’t fucking ask  _ why.  _ I asked if you did it so I’d see you”

Michael didn’t want to answer. He hated these conversations, the ones where he couldn’t lie or charm his way out of. Trevor had a gift of seeing who Michael really was, under all of that self hatred and psychotic rage, he was just a man. And he couldn’t hide that vulnerable state from Trevor, because it was all Trevor saw. 

“Michael, you’re fucking stabbing me with a god damn needle, can you answer my fucking question?” Trevor shot. 

Michael bit his lip, trying not to think too hard.  _ This wasn’t a hard question,  _ he told himself,  _ I dont need to lie, there's no reason. _

“I...I didn’t think you were alive.” he confessed, “Or if you were, you wouldn’t come find me.”

Trevor tucked his head away, looking at the wall while Michael worked.  _ Well, guess that's what he wanted to hear.  _

Michael finished up the entrance wound and began working on the exit. He could see the track marks under his arms too. He didn’t even see them last time he saw Trevor naked, or the time before. He just told himself they weren’t there, that he had no reason to be concerned. He was filled with so much regret.

Trevor turned his head around again, watching Michael. Once Michael finished and tied off the thread, Trevor grabbed his hand. “Why did you think I was dead?” he asked.

“You told me you’d kill yourself if I died, I just figured...you did” Michael admitted. 

_ This is the truth right? This isn’t a lie. Trevor said it all the time.  _

“Did you care?” Trevor continued.

“Of course I did!” Michael cried, “Jesus christ, Trevor!”

“Then why didn’t you look for me?”

Trevor was getting too close, too close to North Yankton. Michael couldn’t talk about that god damn it,  _ he knew  _ he couldn’t talk about that. But he wasn’t going to stop, if nothing else Trevor was persistent. 

“I had to focus on my family, T. I had to tell myself that you were dead, and you didn’t need me.”

“I mourned you” Trevor said in this low whisper, avoiding Michael’s gaze. “I went to your grave.”

_ Fuck.  _

“I...I cried so long, even broke your headstone. I hoped i’d get hypothermia out there, but I didn’t.. S’why I had to come out here to the desert, get away from the cold. It reminded me too much of you. And now here you are, and your heart is ice cold, has it always been like that, sugar?” 

Michael let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t going to ask, he wouldn’t fly too close to the truth. 

“Trev, you know me better than I do. What do you think?”

“I think the Los Santos sun froze it”

Michael laughed, “sure bud, alright”.

 

Michael stayed next to Trevor all night. He had wrapped up the wound around his arm, called Lester to let him know everything was together. Lester advised moving on the bank in the next week, Michael and Trevor agreed. 

Michael sat next to Trevor who called to arrange things with Chef and instruct Ron to watch his trailer until he got back tomorrow morning. 

In an awkward silence, Trevor scooted himself closer to the wall, making room for Michael. “C’mon you big baby, you never sleep, better try”

Michael laughed. “You know, I’m not sure how many dogs have given birth on that thing, I’m good.”

“Oh, so you dont care if I sleep on it?” Trevor spat.

“You’re wounded, alright? You bled all over the fucking front seat of the truck and you don't exactly have the most sterile place right now so yeah, go the fuck to sleep T.”

Trevor quieted down again, scratching his neck. “I bought the motorcycle, in addition to saving your  _ sorry  _ ass, I saved your stolen gang bike” Trevor told him. “It's in the back of the truck”

Michael flashed a grin. “Thank you”

“Yeah” Trevor breathed. “Michael?”

“Yeah dipshit?”

“You’re never gonna be straight with me, are you?” 

There was less anger in his voice when he asked that. It was more sincere, like when Tracey plainly asked Michael when she was twelve if he was a criminal. He just needed to know, that was it. He already knew the answer, but he needed to hear Michael say it” 

Michael laughed, “T, aint we made enough jokes like that for one night?”

“I’m serious, asshole. Jesus, can you take me seriously for five seconds? Can I not be your fucking punchline, huh?”

Michael wiped the sweat off his brow, realizing that there was still blood all over him. It was dried, cracking now. His shirt was ruined for good this time. “I don't know how to answer that, T”.

“You know what's fucked?” Trevor continued, “I cant tell if you’re lying anymore. Not since you told me to fuck off behind a bar in the middle of winter. You’re better at it, and I hate that. I use to be able to trust you, I can't do that anymore.”

“You still want me around?” Michael asked.

“Of course I fucking do! I just...I can quit you know? I can quit meth, heroin, speed, whatever. But I can't quit you, and you can't quit lying, so i’m fucking stuck, and I  _ hate  _ being stuck.”

Michael reached out, placing his palm on Trevor’s forehead. It was cool,  _ that’s a good sign, no infection,  _ he told himself. “I’m sorry” he said with the most sincerity he could, hoping Trevor could tell it was genuine. 

“You know, its really,  _ really _ , fucking creepy to be told that by a fat guy covered in blood while i’m incapacitated in a meth kitchen, you know that right?”

Michael laughed, pushing himself onto the mattress. “Scooch over”

“You’re the fat ass” Trevor sneered, moving himself. 

Michael held him close like he did every night. He rested his forehead against Trevor’s, Trevor grinned. “If I wasn’t about to fucking pass out, Michael Townley I’d eat you up”

“Sure, T” Michael chuckled, kissing his forehead. 

In the distance, some miles away, Ron was talking to Aliens.


	8. Interim: Heartless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate that everyone in gta texts like a fucking idiot and it physically pains me to write it. Thank you to everyone leaving kudos, ily <33

Franklin had been relatively cooped up since he helped Trevor and Michael kill some rednecks. He spent his time with Chops, taking him for walks and trying to get him to stop shitting by the pool. He wondered if Lamar was ever gonna pick him up,  _ probably not since I’m the one paying the vet bills now.  _

Franklin was always the peacemaker between Trevor and Michael. He was level headed, ambitious but not reckless, he was patient. He’d always had to be that way, the peacekeeper, since his mother died and he went to live with his grandparents. He spent his childhood trying to keep Lamar, Tonya, and J.B. out of policemen’s eyes while they tried to hustle, usually selling cigarettes or trying to get some cash from boosting cars.

Now he was in the big leagues. Living in a mansion bought by working the stock market with assassinations, and driving his fancy sports car around the Vinewood hills. He ran stints with Michael and Trevor, trying to learn what he could when they weren't at eachother’s throats.

He was still thinking about that photograph he found, wondering if they’d ever be like they use to be. He wanted them to be happy, at least less angry at each other all the time. He couldn’t imagine them happy, he was half convinced that the photo he found was just a hallucination.  _ Shit, they really are like my fuckin’ parents  _ he thought to himself while he checked his messages on his iFruit.

As he was deleting the spam messages from Ammu-nation, his phone started vibrating. It was an unknown number, he’d never seen it before. It was from the Los Santos area, but that could be anyone. 

After sweating it out for a few rings he hit answer call. He tried to assert himself, “Who is this?” 

There was a meek voice on the other end, he knew the voice but couldn’t put a name to a face. “This Franklin?”

“Who's asking?”

“Amanda? Amanda De Santa? You uh, you broke into my house once. You hang around my husband, Michael”

Franklin automatically shot up, cleaning up the area around him like Amanda was in his house. “Shit, uh, how are you?”

“Fine. I mean, look it doesn’t matter” Amanda stammered, “Look, I know you run around with my  _ husband _ and that... _ Trevor Philips.  _ You still doing that?”

There was something when she said  _ husband,  _ and  _ Trevor Philips.  _ She sounded like Tanisha towards the end, when she started to resent Franklin more and more. Like saying his name was a chore, Amanda spat out Michael’s respective title and Trevor’s name like she was spitting out poison. 

“Yeah, we still cool. Why?”

“Look, is he...is he okay?” She asked, “And don't fucking guilt trip me, kid, alright? I’ve been played by Michael longer than you have”

“Michael aint playin’ nobody, least of all me” He defended. But he knew part of it was true, for all Michael cared Franklin knew what he did. Left Trevor for death, pulled a house down a cliff, had Franklin jump on a yacht on the freeway. He could be kind, loyal, and had all the characteristics of a good person. But at the end of the day Michael was ruthless, he looked out for himself, even if no one else wanted to see it. Maybe thats why Amanda and Trevor were always so bitter about him, because they saw the good and the bad, and Franklin was just trying to see the good.

“Whatever,  _ is he okay _ ?” She persisted, a great deal of urgency on her end.

“Yeah man, I mean, as okay as he can get.” He said, scratching the back of his head. “Look, he really misses his family. You should be callin’ him, not me”

“Oh yeah, sure. My son called him the other day, he was getting a handjob the whole time”

Franklin tried to not laugh,  _ Michael you’re mad stupid.  _ “Shit, how did he know?”

“Jimmy’s not the smartest kid but he can put two and two together, alright? Look, just don't tell him I called, alright? And make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”

“You should call him” Franklin repeated, “He’s tryin’ I think to be better. If you call him maybe it’ll help.”

“Yeah well, you know Michael long enough you’ll figure out that everyone needs a break from him” Amanda sighed. She was quiet on the line for a second, Franklin could hear the clink of a wine glass being put back on the counter. “Thanks for talking to me, alright? But don't call me”

“You called me!”

“Yeah, and I need you to not tell anyone that, alright?”

Amanda talked just like Michael. The same kind of forceful anger hid behind the suburban alter ego. Franklin knew the both of them, Amanda played Tennis and then drank an entire box of wine by herself and went out with her... _ instructor.  _ Michael would drink scotch by the pool, then go inside and call Franklin and Trevor trying to get someone to go to the Vanilla Unicorn with. They tried their best to hide who they were by pretending to be well adjusted, but Franklin just saw crazy white people who couldn’t get their shit together. 

“Alright, I wont tell anyone.” Franklin promised, “But think about calling him, or at least textin’ him so he knows you’re okay”

“Whatever” Amanda groaned, ending the call.

Franklin held the phone next to his ear for a while before he put it down on the kitchen counter. He grabbed a beer from the fridge, sitting down at the kitchen island with his phone. His background was still him and Tanisha, they’d been broken up for almost a year now, but he didn’t want to let go.

Michael never really liked to talk about Amanda. He told Frank that he met her while she was stripping at a truck station bar, him and Trevor had gotten into a fight and were avoiding each other. They didn’t date, just hooked up every other night, smoked weed or did blow depending on how one was feeling.

Eventually Michael and Trevor kissed and made up, Michael left. A few months later Amanda showed up at his rented trailer, baby bump and all. After a few months, little Tracey was born, and Michael married Amanda with Trevor as his best man. 

As far as Franklin could piece from what little tidbits he got from Michael him and Amanda never had anything besides sex, and even that started to fade after they got married. They tried to love each other,  _ really  _ tried. But it never worked out, and they just ended up loathing each other. But now they were apart, and Amanda missed Michael even if she wouldn’t admit it, and Michael missed her and the kids. 

Franklin wondered if him and Tanisha would’ve become like that if she hadn’t broken up with him. He still loved her, he’d done so much of this for her and her alone. He wanted her to see that Franklin could be successful and take care of her and they could have a family. But part of him also knew that Tanisha didn’t love him anymore, and if they did settle down, they would’ve just turned out like Michael and Amanda. And  _ that  _ was a depressing existence. 

_ God,  _ he needed to get out of the house, but he needed to interact with someone other than Chops or call Lamar over again. 

He texted Trevor, he knew he’d be more than happy to have Franklin tag along for whatever morally criminal act he planned to commit that sunny afternoon. 

_ “Hey T, U busy? I need 2get out of the house” _

Literally seconds later, a text came back, all caps,  _ “YES.” _

_ “Where u wanna meet?” _

_ “Observatory dirt road. Im already there, follow the road”. _

_ I’m already there _ was not something Franklin wanted to hear. If Trevor was fighting off whole scores of Madrazo’s men, then that made him a lot more happy to stay at home and mope. But he also literally felt like if he didn’t get out of the house he was  _ literally  _ going to explode. 

 

Franklin strapped his vest on under his sweater and made his way up the winding roads of the Vinewood Hills to reach the observatory. He could see it from his house, and he really hopped that Madrazo didn’t consider the Observatory to be Los Santos territory.

He pulled into the parking lot, putting his car in park under a tree hoping that if he had to flee it wouldn’t be so hot inside. After he made his way past the hikers looking at the maps or taking selfies on their iFruits. He glanced at a group of bikers wearing skin tight neon outfits, shaking his head.

Once he got far enough down the dirt path he could hear Trevor’s music bouncing throughout the hills. Frank tried to follow it like breadcrumbs, hoping, really hoping, Trevor wasn’t doing something like eating an Elk raw. 

“ _ Franklin! _ ” Trevor shouted. He was at the bottom of a hill with his Bodhi parked next to him. He was wearing one of his dresses, the hot pink one he wore when he showed up Franklin’s old house when he wanted to make friends.

Franklin made his way down, Trevor gave him a quick hug. He smelled like...something.

“I am so happy you reached out to me, Frank, I  _ really  _ am” Trevor started, holding onto Franklin’s shoulders, “Because I am  _ enjoying  _ nature and buddy, there’s no better way to do that than with a child to teach life wisdom to!”

“I’m twenty-five!” Franklin yelled, pushing Trevor off.

Trevor threw his hands up, laughing as he made his way to the driver's seat. “Sorry homie, when you get to be as old as me, anyone who wasn’t alive to see  _ this _ beauty in its prime is too young” He said gesturing the Bodhi.

Franklin sighed, walking to the passenger seat. In the back he saw something covered with a bright blue tarp, struggling to get free. “Dude what the fuck is that?” Franklin asked, pointing at it.

“A  _ surprise,  _ you snot. Get in the goddamn truck!” 

The  _ surprise _ started convulsing, making muffled screams. Trevor turned up his music.

 

Trevor and Franklin drove around the hills, bouncing up and down as Trevor made his own road. They made it to an off road area along one of the Great Chaparral hills. 

Trevor pulled over in a relatively deserted open area. He turned the car off and started fiddling around with his phone, trying to find the music app. Franklin watched him struggle, cursing before he threw it out the window. “You good?” Franklin asked sarcastically.

“ _ Fuck the future! _ ” Trevor yelled getting out of the car. 

Franklin opened up his iFruit, putting his music on shuffle. He let it run at the highest volume as he got out of the car and stared at the person under the tarp struggle. 

Trevor grabbed his phone and put it against his pec under his dress. He opened the back of the Bodhi, throwing the rocks off the tarp that kept it in place. “Life lesson for you Frank: Don't be anyone’s bitch!”

Franklin just watched, arms crossed, eyes raised.

“Because once you become someone’s bitch, you open yourself up for weakness and that's bullshit!” Trevor continued.

He pulled the tarp off, showing an older white man in a leather jacket, plaid shirt, and a hat off to the side that read  _ “Civil Border Patrol” _

“Dude you bagged a fucking  _ Border Patrol Cop _ ?” Frank yelled, “Are you fuckin’ stupid?”

“No, Frank! I’m a goddamn hero! Doing my fucking patriotic duty!” 

Trevor grabbed the man by his bindings on his arms and threw him out the truck. His face hit the dirt road, he started trying to crawl away. Trevor put his foot on the man’s head, pushing down hard enough so that he wouldn’t move. “This gentleman, is  _ not even  _ a goddamn cop, Frank! He’s just another supremacist asshole trying to fuck with the god damn immigrants in this country and calling it patriotism” Trevor explained, “I mean look at me, huh? Yeah, I’m from Canada, I’m not proud of it, but it's who I am! And this fuck, this fucking  _ racist,  _ has me chasing down Mariachi bands with his Russian errand boy trying to stun gun them til they shit themselves!”

“Where's the other guy then?” Frank asked

Trevor laughed a menacing chuckle. “Oh, he’s dessert, kiddo. Right now we’re dealing with  _ this  _ racist, Michael already called dibs on the Russian.”

“So, what are you gonna do to him?” Franklin asked,

“There’s a shovel back under the tarp, grab it for me.”

 

Franklin was tasked with watching the hostage while Trevor dug a hole nearby. He was a seasoned killer and knew how to dig a hole fast, saving himself energy and time by just doing it himself and not asking Frank to do it. While he did he narrated the whole process, providing tips and tricks. “Now we’re lucky, alright Frank? There ain't no snow here yet, so we can just dig. But when there  _ is  _ snow, you gotta bring a pickaxe alright? Trust me, you’ll be thanking me later”

“Yeah alright, I’ll buy myself a pickaxe next time I’m at a hardware store.” Frank agreed, writing it on his shopping list on his phone that also included dog food and more toilet paper. Frank sighed, watching Trevor dig. He was halfway done he figured, at least then he could stop watching the guy tied up try to escape but end up falling on his face again, making Frank pull him back to his original spot. 

“So like, you been doin’ this a long time? Digging holes like this?” Frank asked

“Thats right brother. It's a good skill to have, no matter what” Trevor continued, “See, Michael will tell you that if you’re lucky you’ll never have to dig a hole like this. But I disagree, you’re lucky if you  _ get  _ to, means you really got a reason to be pissed, a reason to get up in the morning”

“So like, you get out of bed in the morning because you’re pissed off?” Franklin asked

“What? No! I get out of bed because I got shit to do, Frank! Jesus, I’m not some Ponsonby model, I gotta get up in the morning and do my fuckin’ job!”

“Making meth? Killin’ a lot of guys? Burying them?”

“Eh, sometimes I do other things. I’m kind of a restless guy in case you haven’t noticed. Like to take on new hobbies, keep my body and mind moving’” Trevor stopped digging for a second, pointing a finger at Franklin. “Boredom will kill you my friend, keep that in mind”

As Trevor resumed his digging, the fake border patrol cop tried to start crawling away. Franklin hoisted himself up and grabbed him by his collar, throwing him back on the ground. He sat back on the back of the truck, his legs hanging off the side. “Hey, Trevor, can I ask you something?”

“Kid, I am at your disposal. Might as well give some advice while I’m still alive.”

Frank rubbed his hands together, trying to figure out how to ask what he was thinking without pissing off Trevor. Trevor was insane, he could kill Franklin and bury him that afternoon if he pushed the wrong button. He had to be careful, especially with the question that he’d been wondering since Michael said Trevor’s name. “So like, look...I’m gonna be straight up, are you gay, dude?”

Trevor immediately laughed, shaking his head. “I guess, kid” he answered simple enough.

Franklin was surprised he answered it so simply without any trouble. He felt like it was the okay to keep prodding. “So like, uh, you and Michael...I just been thinkin’ you know? You two known each other a long time, act real close, but like--”

Trevor stopped digging. He hoisted himself up from the hole, leaving the shovel in the mound of dirt beside it. “Help me with this” he instructed, grabbing the man by his shoulders and began dragging him over. Franklin stood up, grabbing his legs to help. 

Trevor threw the guy in the hole. He was sobbing now, face red, the shirt Trevor used to gag him was tinted pink with blood from his nostril mixed with his spit and tears. He was muffling something, but Trevor ignored him, leaning into his shovel. “Frank, I fucked Michael’s wife” He admitted, “It was before they were married, me and Michael fucked the same girl. We did it before too, waitresses, hookers, whatever. I like, women, I respect them. I personally, am more inclined towards older, stronger, more demanding women. But I like them” 

Franklin inhaled sharply, putting his hands in his pockets and avoiding Trevor’s gaze. Trevor ducked, moving so that Frank would have to look at him. “But you know what else? I like having cock in my mouth, alright? I like being held by a man, kissed by them, it makes me just as happy as women do. I realized this, just as the AIDS epidemic started, alright? I’m not ashamed in myself, I’m honest. So don't be a pussy and prance around the question alright?”

“Shit, okay dude, I-I’m sorry” Franklin mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Trevor put his hand on Franklin’s shoulder, “Ain't got nothin’ to worry about, I’m not mad. But I do fuck Michael, and he fucks me, and my dick is smaller than his, and yeah he likes having his asshole fingered.”

Franklin threw his hands up as he backed up from Trevor , crying out “I don't need to know that!”

Trevor laughed, “Look you wanted to know!”

“Yeah, but shit! I didn’t need to fuckin’ know that much! I gotta work with you two, damn!”

Trevor was holding his gut, turning red from laughing. Franklin was trying to not think about them together. He felt like just that bit of information was on the same level as when he walked in on his grandparents. 

 

Trevor started burying the guy at his feet first, letting him struggle and throw the dirt in the air trying to save himself. Frank kicked some dirt in the grave too, he always got a kick out of fucking up racists like that.

Trevor had since calmed down, but still occasionally laughed to himself repeating,  _ “Am I gay?” _ before he shook his head, smiling.

Once the man was covered in loose dirt, just part of his face showing, Trevor yelled out, “You like this? Huh? You’re pathetic!”. 

Trevor dug the shovel into the ground to roll his shoulders, wiping the sweat off his brow. “Hey man, I got it, alright?” Franklin offered, taking the shovel.

“Hm? Yeah, shit, I always forget i’m old” Trevor panted. 

Trevor sat down in the dirt, slapping the dirt out of his dress. Franklin was still curious, still thinking. He’d only really asked half of what he needed to ask. As he shoveled the dirt into the grave, the man convulsing, trying to swim amidst the dirt. 

“Hey, T, I got more questions, is that alright?” Franklin continued.

“The dress ain't related to me likin’ Mikey alright? I wear it for  _ me _ ” Trevor barked back, putting his hands on his chest. 

“No dog, I mean like…” Franklin just kicked a bunch of dirt over into the grave. “Look, Amanda called me”

Trevor’s face automatically turned into a scowl, rolling his eyes. “Oh yeah? What’d she want?”

“She asked me how Michael is, dude. She didn’t want to talk to him, I’m not even suppose to tell him that she called” He explained. He realized that even bringing that up was a mistake because he knew that Trevor was going to tell Michael, as a way to be an asshole or it would just slip out. “Look, you said that uh, you and Amanda…”

“Michael and I didn’t know we were bangin’ the same girl alright! Shit, look, neither of his brats are mine, we did test a long time ago” 

“No dude, I mean...You and Michael are tight, but Michael...he still wants to get back with Amanda right? How do you deal with that man?”

Trevor sighed, “He doesn’t  _ want  _ to go back to Amanda. He feels obligated”

“Yeah but still. Like, you two known each other twenty years? Has it...has it always been like that?”

Trevor thought. Michael and Trevor were never really truly  _ “official” _ , but they called each other boyfriends, gave each other pet names, rented apartments and trailers together. When they broke up, it was bad, when they got back together, it was great. They had always been together, always, always. To Trevor, Amanda was just a mistake that Michael couldn’t erase. She was an unstable variable, something that forced his best friend to change and be the suburban slob she wanted him to be. Trevor wanted to believe he didn’t hate Amanda, at least not before North Yankton. He always believed that if push came to shove, Michael would take Trevor over his family any day. But then Ludernoff happened, and Trevor spent ten years in the sun, alone. Meanwhile, Amanda and Michael bickered and fought endlessly, Michael slept on the couch most nights.

“Kid, look, Mikey, he don't belong to nobody” Trevor started, “But me and him? We belong to each other. I loved Michael before Amanda, get it? I hate that son of a bitch, he’s...he’s a lying snake, he’s a liar, but I also  _ fucking  _ love that piece of dog shit.”

“So, if Michael goes back to Amanda, what are you gonna do?”

The man was already completely covered. Through the layers of dirt Trevor watched the man flail under it, trying to survive. Trevor recalled for a minute one of those anti-drug adverts, how Meth could make you feel like you’re drowning on dry land. He didn’t believe any of that shit, he  _ was  _ watching a man literally drown in a pile of dirt, so what's that mean for him? Frank kept adding more and more dirt, and slowly the man turned to a corpse, and became still. 

“I’ll do what I did before. Stay nearby, wait for him to need me”

“But what if you need him?”

“What the  _ fuck  _ is with these questions, Frank? Huh?” Trevor yelled, “You call me out here for what? T-To ask me about how I’m always gonna be second in Michael’s life?”

Trevor stood up, he was storming back and forth now, holding onto his hair. 

“Shit, dude, I didn’t mean it like that!” Frank yelled, dropping the shovel and trying to take hold of Trevor. 

Trevor pushed him off, pointing a finger at him, “You have no fucking idea what it's like being me! How fucking dare you!”

“I kinda do!” Franklin yelled back.

Trevor breathed hard, scratching the track marks on his left arm. He let out a single anguished scream before he started trying to calm down.  _ He’s not fucking with you, he’s not doing this on purpose,  _ he told himself. Trevor returned to Franklin who still sat on the ground where Trevor had pushed him. “Yeah? What's goin’ on with you, pipsqueak?” he asked, holding out a hand for Frank to stand up.

Franklin took it, and hoisted himself up. He took out his phone, handed it to Trevor. “That's Tanisha. We was rollin’ since high school”

Trevor lifted a brow. “She’s pretty, how’d an ugly kid like you get so lucky?” he joked handing the phone back over.

“Shit, I don't know man.” Frank sighed, “She just, y’know like, I felt like things made sense when I was with her. It didn’t matter where we were, it was always good because  _ she  _ was there.”

“And now she’s gone?” Trevor interrupted

Franklin nodded, biting his lip. “Yeah”

“She stupid?”

Franklin forced a laugh, “nah, she’s smarter than I am, I think. Smart enough to…”

Franklin crossed his arms again, leaning his weight against the Bodhi. “I can't get out of this life, man. It was set up for me before I was born. I wanted to do good in this shit, make a lot of cash, live in a nice mansion, shit...Before I knew how much Michael’s life was fallin’ apart, I wanted what he had.”

“But what, with Tanisha and tiny little Franklin’s and Tanisha’s?” Trevor asked.

“Yeah. But she doesn’t roll like that. She wants someone stable, and…”

“You serious? You chased down hillbillies for me, if that's not stable, I don't know what is”

“Tanisha doesn’t want me chasing down hillbillies. She wants me to have a good job, a legal one. She wants me to make honest paper, be a good man. I can't do that, man. But I can't accept...that she’s not comin’ back, no matter what I do, she’s gone.”

“Well fuck” Trevor spat, “That’s some shit”

Trevor made his way back to the dirt mound and kicked the rest of the dirt in the hole. He began stomping on it, trying to make the ground level. “So there a reason you told me that sad and pathetic love story, Frankie boy?”

“Well, you love Michael, but Michael wants something different right? How do you, deal with that?”

Trevor laughed again. “Michael wants me, he’s just afraid to say it. That's why he hates me, because I let him be who he really is.”

“Yeah, but he’s married to Ama-”

“He could be married to the fucking President, alright, Frank? That doesn’t mean shit!” He yelled. “Michael loves  _ me.  _ There’s a reason we can't avoid each other, because its how its meant to be. But sometimes, no matter how bad it fucking hurts, I have to let him go. That's what love is, sacrifice, alright?”

Franklin breathed, clicking the on button of his phone to look at the picture of him and Tanisha. “What do I do about Tanisha?”

Trevor walked over, putting his arm around Frank and patting his chest. “Frank, if she’s real, she’ll come back. But if she’s not, then i’m sorry, truly, I am.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He was hoping that obsessive Trevor would tell him to keep hustling until Tanisha took notice. But Trevor wasn’t a liar, he hated liars, he had heard enough lies in his life  and he definitely wouldn’t lie to Franklin.

“I know it's not what you want to hear,” Trevor continued, “But nobody belongs to anybody alright? Nothing matters, someday we’ll all be dead! But in life, there’s good people, people who you love, and who love you, who will come back. And well...hold out for those people, Frank. That's all I can say”

“And if they don't?”

Trevor chuckled. “I’m the wrong person to ask that”.

 

After the job was done, Trevor and Franklin piled back in the Bodhi. They drove off the makeshift Road Trevor had made for himself and onto the regular dirt road. Franklin looked back at the obvious trail they left behind, “Uh, you sure you wanna leave a trail?”

“Trail? To what? That's just a clearing Franklin, a place for families to have picnics and for teenagers to become parents” 

Trevor was playing a cassette now, it was one of his older tapes. Franklin was amazed that someone still used cassettes, but then again, Trevor  _ did  _ usually like things before they were cool.

“ _ Do it all the time, do it all the time, do it all the tiiiiiiiime!”  _ The band sang together.

Trevor beat the steering wheel, turning to the volume up as high as it would go, “this is the best part, kid!”

Trevor took a deep breath, the strumming of the guitar slowed. The singer slurred, Trevor sang along in a monotone voice, “ _ I hope you knooow that this will go dooown on your permanent recooooord...Oh yeah? Well don't get so distressed, did I happen to mention I’m impressed?” _

The guitar sped up, Trevor rocked his head along to the rest of the song.

“Dude what the fuck is this?” Franklin finally asked.

Trevor abruptly stopped the Bodhi, Franklin jerking forward in his seat.

Trevor slowly turned his head to Franklin with an open mouth. “Who hurt you?” he finally asked.

“You did! Damn, what the fuck, Trevor!”

“How do you not know, who the Violent Femmes are, Franklin?”

He stared at Trevor, who looked like Franklin had just come into his home, eaten all of his food and fucked his wife. “I’m black”

Trevor accepted the answer, nodded, “Alright!” he said starting the car back up, skipping the song.

Trevor dropped off Franklin a short walk from the observatory to be safe. He handed him sixteen cents as got out of the truck, telling him to buy himself something nice. Franklin shook his head, waving at Trevor as he walked back. Trevor had tried to get Franklin over for dinner, but the kid was tired and he needed time to think over what Trevor said. 

Trevor got on the road again on his way to North Chumash. He had given Michael a ride earlier with the Russian and it was going to be dark soon. He took out his cassette as he drove, trying to find something else to listen to. 

Most of Trevor’s cassettes were originals, and a lot of them were broken now. But he had a hard time letting go, even with broken objects he had a hard time. Besides, each tape was special. Like the Violent Femmes one, Trevor stole it the night he and Michael cried in front of each other the first time. The Eagles were Trevor and Michael’s favourite, so that was priceless as well. All of his Hole Cassettes were his treasures, he loved Courtney Love’s rough voice. And of course there was the infamous black tape, the memory of young Michael and Trevor lived in its punk hymes. He had a Lemonhead cassette that only played Green Fuzz now, the song that played after he got rejected from the Army. 

The tapes with the worst memories he tried to redefine every now and again. He popped the Lemonhead tape in, melodically bobbing his head along to the sweet lullaby as the sun set before him. 

He use to hate the song, it would send him into a blind rage. It was weird for him to think about that time after the rejection. He was practically homeless, Mrs. Philips disappeared leaving Trevor alone. He wandered aimlessly, he didn’t have much left at that point.

It was even weirder for him to think about how much Michael changed his life. A few months later he was working at his own airstrip and that's when he met Michael. After that, he had friends, he had people he could call to talk shit about and then go do work. He had money, he had things to do, something to fill his time. Michael made that happen, for better or for worse, Michael changed the entire course of Trevor’s life when he ended up on that airstrip. 

And twenty years later here he was, driving down 68 blasting the same song that use to kill him, to pick up the man who he thought had died.  _ God,  _ he loved him. Just driving down the highway he got giddy. He was still pissed, understandably so, but he loved having Michael back in his life. He wanted to hear how Michael killed the Russian, watching his eyes light up, Trevor loved seeing that side, the reckless Michael who did what he wanted. 

He was making his way down the Great Ocean Highway, the song had ended and now the car was sputtering out this ungodly noise that meant it was time to either restart the song or take out the broken tape. Trevor took it out, putting it in the glove compartment, letting the radio play. He left it on Non-Stop Pop last time he listened to the radio,  _ Meet Me Halfway _ played.

Trevor sniffled,  _ God, only the Black Eyed Peas really understood him _ . 

 

Trevor pulled up on the dirt road to the beach. He parked the car near some rocks, looked out at the deserted dirty beach. He saw Michael in his bright aqua and yellow hawaiian shirt, flying in the wind as he sat in the sand, smoking a cigarette.

Trevor started a slow jog, following the smell of Michael’s cigarette, listening to the waves crash into the coast. Halfway there, he called out his name, Michael turned around, smiling.

Trevor threw himself next to him, laying down on the sand, panting.

“And to think, you’re always telling me that cigarettes are killer” Michael teased, reaching out to put his hand on Trevor’s chest.

Trevor breathed hard, holding Michael’s hand to his heart. “It's the...second hand smoke...you fucking twat”

Michael laughed, putting out the cigarette in the sand.

He laid down next to Trevor on his side, watching the sun set in the distance. “Romantic huh?” he asked.

Trevor spat still trying to catch his breath, “blah blah blah, whatever creep”.

Michael rested his head on his shoulder, Trevor watched him look at the sunset longingly. Michael was in his own movie right now, his own little world. Trevor wanted to ask how he took care of the Russian, but he was ensnared.  _ This can't be how Michael feels looking at me,  _ he thought.

Michael turned his head, laughing, “And i’m the creep?”

“Mmm you are, fucking weirdo”

He threw his head back laughing. 

Michael’s shirt wasn’t buttoned you could see all the spots Trevor had bitten and scratched at the past two days. He snickered at his handiwork, enjoying the view.

Then Michael turned over to Trevor, gently wrapping a hand around his cheek, kissing him softly. 

The ocean hair made Trevor’s dress fly up, but he let it. He held Michael, who kissed him so softly, so sweetly. 

As Michael pulled away, Trevor felt himself leaning in for more, only to lay his head back on the sand. 

Michael laid with his head on Trevor’s chest, holding his shoulders, looking at the bandage on his arm from a few nights ago. Trevor just hugged him tight, not wanting to let go, not willing to admit that he wasn’t his. 


	9. The Paleto Bay Score

The morning of the score, Trevor and Michael did their usual ritual for this sort of thing. They showered, brushed their teeth, they shared a beer, then just sat next to each other saying whatever they needed to say before the heist. This was of course especially difficult for Michael who  _ literally _ could not tell Trevor what he needed to say, so instead he checked his LifeInvader to see his children criticizing him for the world to see.

Trevor was in the bedroom trying to button his shirt, pissed off every time he finished but was off by a few buttons. Michael saw him struggling and walked over, pushing T’s hands away. “Just let me, dumbass” He said.

Trevor was oddly quiet that morning. Picking at his skin more, avoiding Michael. Even when they had their beer out on the porch he was less talkative than usual. 

Michael unbuttoned Trevor’s black shirt, and stopped to admire his new tattoo’s. He hadn’t said anything before, he was distracted. But now he could look, the  _ “Fuck Cops”  _ on his stomach and the smiley face near his pelvis made him laugh quietly to himself. Trevor looked down, “See something funny, cowboy?”

“Even your tattoo’s are still weird, T” 

Trevor didn’t say anything in response, he just ignored him. He  _ ignored  _ him, Trevor never did that. He always engaged, and with something like that, he would be more than ready to start a fight like he always was. Michael tried to figure out what was going on in Trevor’s mind, what it could possibly be that was eating him. He had already had his  _ “Medicine” _ for the afternoon, so he didn’t need a fix. A single bottle of beer wasn’t something that got Trevor going, and alcohol definitely didn’t make him quiet down.

When he finished buttoning the shirt he tucked it into Trevor’s pants, slapping his chest when he was done. “Hey look at that, you almost look like a normal person, T” he laughed making his way back to the couch.

“You know, Michael, I’m gettin’ real tired of that smart mouth of yours” Trevor spat.

Michael’s eyes lit up,  _ alright he’s okay.  _ He went back on his phone, but Trevor kept going. “You know, Patricia thinks I am god damn  _ gorgeous! _ ” He yelled, “She said I have eyes like the autumn leaves, Michael! The  _ autumn leaves! _ ”

Michael took a deep breath, shutting his phone off. He slouched down, resting his elbows on his knees. “Alright T, what's goin’ on? Huh?”

“Whats going on,  _ Michael,  _ is that...is that...Look, fuck, wait” Trevor took out his phone, tapping on the screen, making grumbling noises as he tried to get his phone to work. 

“If it's another fucking picture of a dead cat you found, I don't wanna fuckin’ see it T”

Trevor gave up, but he wasn’t angry about it. He put the phone back in his pocket, taking a few deep breaths. “C’mon Philips, c’mon…” He whispered to himself. 

Michael just patiently waited, occasionally checking his phone for the time. 

Once Trevor was ready, he had his hands on his hips with his head head high. “Look, Michael, you, are a liar. That is undeniable, but I think that's why we work man! You’re a fuckin’ snake, but I’m...I’m…”

“A literal red faced monster”

Trevor held his head, pacing around the kitchen area. He eventually sat down, put his arm around Michael, and looked him deep in the eyes. “Mikey, you should know...I have feelings for Patricia”

Michael rolled his eyes, he stood back up and went to the fridge for another beer. “Look, we’ll deal with Madrazo in one way or another, man! But me and Patricia? Our love is beautiful! Its like flowers growing out of Shit, M!”

Michael rubbed the bridge of his nose, speaking very softly now. “Trevor...please, tell me what the punchline is because this joke...is making me...very tired”

Trevor gasped, hitting his chest, “Michael! I’m being real! I love Patricia, she loves me!”

“Christ, T! She’s old enough to be your mother!”

Trevor shot up from the couch, grabbing Michael’s hands. “Don't you fucking talk about her! Don't you fucking mention my mother!”

“Fine then what’d you want me to say huh? That its okay? T, on so many fucking levels is  _ this _ not okay! Are you a fucking idiot?!”

Trevor grabbed Michael by his shirt collar, and spat, “Me and her, are forever, Michael! Love is crazy, and it's dumb, but its a drug you can't quit! And baby, I’m hooked!”

Trevor let him go, grabbing the beer from his hand to put it back in the fridge. “And the last thing you need buddy, is more beer. Patricia said you drink way too much, smoke too much too and honestly? I agree”

Michael now had a pulsating headache. He didn’t have the mental energy to deal with this problem, but he couldn’t stop himself now that Trevor had revvd him up. 

But now Trevor was in front of him, kissing the top of his head. “Look brother, I know what you’re thinking but me and Patricia...it doesn't change how you and me are, yeah? Like you and Mandy, right?”

_ There it was.  _ “Is that...Is that what this is fucking about? A competition with  _ my wife? _ ” Michael was shouting at the top of his lungs, one of the veins in his throat popping out. Trevor licked his lips.

“Look, Michael, you made it clear on  _ numerous  _ occasions that you and me? We aren’t exclusive, alright? Now I have found a strong, beautiful, and spirited goddess who has swept me off my feet and you think of  _ you? _ Fuck you!”

Michael was done, he was already tired and they still had a bank to rob. 

He grabbed his duffle bag of guns and his car keys. Trevor scoffed, grabbing his bag and following him outside. “Don't you  _ fucking  _ walk away from me, Sugar Tits! Alright you wanted me to keep my dick exclusive? You should’ve said something twenty fucking years ago!”

Michael turned around, pointing a finger. “ _ This  _ is not about fucking...dating! Whatever the fuck we’re doing! It's about you being a fucking idiot, falling in love with a woman twice your fucking age who by the way,  _ you kidnapped! _ ”

“I  _ rescued _ her! She was practically begging me, alright? You weren’t there!”

From across the street a skinny kid, maybe in his late twenties, definitely a tweaker, yelled “ _ Queers! _ ”

Michael ignored him, let Trevor hopped over his fence and punched him square in the jaw. The next second Trevor was kicking his face in. Michael pulled the car around, turned on the classic rock station while he waited for Trevor to get his anger out. Michael reached to turn on the AC, but just hot air spat out. He opened all the windows to let the hot air flow out until the air conditioning started but it just let more hot air in. Maybe the highway would be better to cool down the car.

Once Trevor finished he got in the passenger side panting. He turned to Michael who had his eyes focused on the road, “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?” Trevor spat.

“Oh yeah, I know. You tell me that about, what are up to thirty times a day now? I think you whispered it in my ear last night”

“No, alright, I’m fucking serious. You’re a goddamn coward, I mean...fuck!”

“Yeah, yeah, Los Santos made me soft is that it? I’m not the man you use to know? Well you already said that so why don't you come up with some new material sweetcheeks?”

Trevor growled balling his fists on his knees. “That's the second fucking time you turned me loose like an attack dog, by the way,  _ De Santa. _ Don't even fight your own fucking battles anymore, no leave it to T, he’s the crazy one”

“You’re fucking demented” Michael scoffed as he pulled onto the highway. “Look, I care alright? Someone calls me that, I give a shit. But we got a job to do T, and I have a fucking headache like an icepick lobotomy so, no, I didn’t want to beat the shit out of a snot nosed drug addict”

“You talkin’ about me?” Trevor snorted, “Because I could kick your ass”

“You’d throw out your back. By the way, I’d start converting that trailer into a more accessible space”

Trevor raised a brow, “...why?”

“Well you know, Patricia is pretty old. I figure you should probably get a walk-in tub, a ramp, maybe finally, get rid of the cockroaches, huh? Oh, and life insurance!”

Trevor reached out to grab the steering wheel, Michael yelled trying to push him away As the car swerved down the highway the AC finally started pumping in cool air. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Why don't you fuckin’ cool it alright? Roll up your fuckin’ window, the AC is working now.”

“Yeah and we’re literally two seconds away. You know, fuck you De Santa”

“You already did”.

 

As they pulled into the gas station Trevor didn’t wait for the car to stop to get out of the car. As he landed on the pavement he let out a pained groan, rolling on his back. Michael didn’t bother looking. He grabbed his bag and locked the car, getting out of the car. “So if you’re paralyzed because you can't even wait to get out of a car, do I get your cut?” Michael asked

“Cunt”

Michael walked over holding his hand out to help Trevor up. Trevor saw him, his head blocking the sun, all he could think was  _ fat ass.  _ Trevor pulled himself up, pushed Michael, and made his way inside. Michael grabbed his shoulder, yelling “Can you fucking cool it, Trev? For five fucking minutes?”

Trevor pushed him again, walking through the gas station set up. He grabbed some San Andre’s Almonds from the dusty shelves and popped them open. Michael rolled his eyes making his way towards the back. Trevor seeing this, threw his bag of almonds at Michael’s head.

“What the fuck?!” Michael yelled,

“Employee’s only, dipshit” Trevor nagged.

As Trevor ran up the stairs, Michael started again, his fuse already lit. “You know, T, I think we gotta talk more on the Patricia thing”

“Oh yeah? Too bad, I’m done. We’re in love, deal with it” 

As they passed the busted open door, they made their way to the Heist planning board leaving their bags on the ruined couch. Lester was already there finalizing the plans while Chef read the map. “Hey Trevor!” he beamed

“Not now!” He regretted it once he said it. He took a deep breath and hugged Chef from behind, softly assuring, “I’m sorry buddy, its just Michael is insisting on fucking my asshole right now and I’m not playing, you feel me?”

Chef just coughed into his hand, Lester sighed. 

Michael grabbed Trevor by the back of his jacket and jerked him back. “We ain't fuckin’ finished, T, alright? You can't bang Patricia!”

Trevor gasped, holding his chest, his eyebrows raised. “ _ Michael! _ ”

“No, no, I fucking know you T! Alright? Better than anyone in this fucking room! And you can't fucking do that!”

“We’re saving ourselves!”

“For fucking what?! T, she’s already gone through menopause, she’s  _ married _ !”

“Fuck you! We have a pure and wholesome relationship!”

“Its fucking inappropriate!” he shouted.

“I-It's not inappropriate! Its…”

“Its another one of your  _ fucking  _ disasters. That's what it is!”

Trevor growled, shaking his head. He paced to the other room. Michael followed, pacing through the door across the way “No, no, no you fucking listen! Alright? First you take a hostage against my advice, then you start some kind of crazy high school romance with her? Are you nuts?!”

“ _ She’s-- _ ”

“ _ She’s a sixty year old housewife! _ ” 

“Aah! She’s fifty-seven, and she thinks I’m mature!” He yelled walking back to the other room

“Yeah well let me tell you something: Thirty years of marriage to the world’s angriest mob boss would drive anyone crazy!”

Trevor gritted his teeth, kicking in one of the separating walls before pacing back into the other room. “Don't you fucking walk away from me, Trevor! You’re not making my situation any easier!” Michael yelled following across from him.

Trevor let out a drawn out cackle before he started to clap, “Oh there’s a surprise! I knew it would become about you! Because it can't fucking be about anyone else for five fucking seconds!”

“I miss my family!”

“Oh you’re full of shit! All you ever did was ignore them! Your wife, your kids, fuck ‘em! But now that they’re gone you miss ‘em! Fucking incredible!”

“I’ll tell you what's incredible you piece of shit! You wanting so badly to fuck your mother you’re willing to fuck a geriatric ward patient!”

That was enough to set him off. From the other room, Chef raised his head to look into one of the holes in the wall to see Michael and Trevor wrestling on the ground. He looked at Lester who was very involved in his work. “Hey, uh...are they…”

“Oh, its a lovers quarrel. They’ll tire themselves out”

“Huh...I’m gonna go move some of the product away from their area”

“Thats a good idea”

 

Chef sat up against the wall watching Michael and Trevor fight, not even landing any punches. They just growled and yelled, one person would be on top and then the other would throw them down on the ground. Twice one of them stood up, but the other just ran head first into their stomach and tackled them back down. Chef rubbed his mustache wondering if he should go get the first aid kit in the corner.

As the three of them carried on in one room, Franklin came upstairs in a panic. “What the fuck is--man seriously? They’re like fifty!”

“Forty eight, actually. How are you Franklin?” Lester asked smiling.

“Shit, I could be better if I wasn’t always having to play babysitter to the weirdest dudes I know”

Lester chuckled, “trust me, it doesn’t get any better from here.”

Franklin shook his head putting his bag on the couch with the others. He went around the corner where Chef was, out of the fire. “How long they been at this?” He asked

“Like half an hour”

“Why didn’t ya’ll stop ‘em sooner! If they fuckin’ break a hip or someth--”

“They’re not that old! At least, boss isn’t that old”

“Hey! Hey!” Franklin called storming over to them. Michael was currently on top, trying to get T into a chokehold. Franklin grabbed Michael by the back of his collar, yelling “Ya’ll roped me into your crazy world bullshit, if it was lies, New Age shit, and about how good things use to be, I could’ve stayed my ass in Los Santos!”

Michael patted himself off, embarrassed. Trevor on the other hand stayed on the ground and waved at Franklin. “When did you get here kid?”

“Man, T, get the fuck up” Michael sighed grabbing him by his arm. 

Trevor whispered in his ear, “ _ I’ve got a major hard on right now, Townley _ ”.

They walked back to the planning area. Michael stood next to Lester, and instructed “Alright here’s the shot: We’re gonna go to Paleto Bay, we’re gonna do this thing, any questions? Comments?”

Everyone remained quiet, except Trevor who raised a hand. “Yeah...I wish Brad was here.”

Michael swallowed hard, biting his lower lip looking to the ground.  _ Fuck not now, I don't need this right now, fuck, lets just go  _ he thought.

“If that crazy motherfucker was here with us now, he would’ve loved this!” Trevor continued, “Instead, he’s got to enjoy himself molesting white collar criminals in a Federal Penitentiary!” 

Michael put it out of his mind. “Thanks for sharing”

 

After the debrief they all piled into the white van Franklin had gotten them. The AC was broken with the van so they had to roll the windows open in the front, Trevor unbuttoned half of his shirt fanning himself. “ _ Lord _ , what a heat!” He yelled in his fake southerner twang. In his normal voice he started a friendly conversation, or as friendly as could be. “You ever do something like this Franklin?”

“Yeah, I was the driver with my boy Lamar when we robbed a bank, guess it's the same thing we’re doing now.”

“Nice bro! What was the take?” He asked.

“Shit...I dont know man, I cant remember”

“What?  _ C’mooon,  _ everyone remembers their first score!”

Franklin rebuffed, “Shit, not me.”

“Arg. Mikey, bro, what was your first bank score?” Trevor called out, “Sadly I cant testify if he’s lying or not, so everyone take Mikey’s story with a grain of salt”

Michael snickered to himself, “Carcer City, ‘88. I took ten g. Things were easier back then.”

“Twenty-five years ago,  _ J-e-sus.  _ Chef, will you tell these fine gentlemen about your first job?”

“T, man, you could tell it twice as easily”. Michael looked up in the rearview mirror at Chef who was smiling with Trevor. Michael smiled too, Chef seemed to be one of the few people besides Michael who he wasn’t constantly trying to put down. It was nice to see Trevor, we'll, play nice.

“You tell ‘em, i’ll do a sanity check”

Michael laughed, “Ah Trevor, the ultimate judge of sanity”

“Well, uh, it was ah, part of the interview process I guess. Trevor knew I could cook, but he wanted to see if I could handle myself.”

_ Sounds like Classic T, I remember him hazing any guys we brought on our team after we got our foot in the door.  _

“This cash for gold guy comes through town, you know, it stood that he could have cash. So next thing I know, we’re burying him in the junkyard with his bodyguard...well, what was left anyway” 

Trevor put a hand on Chef’s shoulder, giving him a nod. “ _ Fifty K,  _ he did fine. He’s better in all aspects of the job now, from killing to dismemberment!” 

There was a quiet silence, as Trevor turned to look at Franklin’s seat where he was slowly sinking into trying to avoid what was coming. “Alright kid, your turn”

“I told you man, I don't remember!” Franklin rebuffed. He was covering the side of his face trying to just look forward. Michael saw Jimmy for a split second, every time he’d try to ask him how school was or even what he was currently interested in.

“Leave him alone Trevor” Michael defended, glancing at Franklin who was still avoiding everyone in the car.

“Hey, this is an  _ important  _ moment _ ,  _ Michael. Here we are, on our way to almost certain death,  _ bonding, pooouring our hearts out, _ and this guy is sitting here soaking it up and offering nothing in return!” Trevor enthused, shaking his head. “Reminds me of another someone” he winked to Chef who shot a very confused look.

“ _ Hey,  _ if he dont remember--”

“ _ If he dont remember?  _ I’m suppose to trust this man with my life? I’m suppose to trust this, this kid, with my most close kept secrets of the trade? But he dont trust me with the details of his first bank job?”

“Oh yeah? Well I don't hear you contributing, you tell your story, and don't worry I’ll fact check it! I was there” Michael challenged, watching T in the rearview mirror.

T splayed himself out, hands behind his head, legs stretched out. “What? That checks cashed place? I was in, took eight grand, got out”

Michael laughed, “Oh, it was a bit more complicated, wasn’t it T?”

Michael remembered the whole thing. He was in there with him, their first job together. They were just kids, it was right after the first snow of winter. They staked out the place for weeks cooped up in their broke ass van drinking burned gas station coffee, going back to the motel to watch Cop shows trying to learn their secrets. He remembered the complete  _ panic  _ on their faces when they were at the door, faces covered, guns out, really about to rob a place,  _ together.  _

“Look,  _ maaaaybe  _ I knew a guy who worked there,  _ maaaaybe  _ he ID’d me.”

“ _ Maybe _ you did six months and I had to visit your ass every week.”

“ _ Maybe,  _ I was out in four! And that children, is why we don't leave witnesses! Chef, Franklin, you takin’ notes?”

“I’m two years younger than you!” Chef cried

“Blah blah blah, kids these days!”

“That children! Is why we don't rob people we know!” Michael added with a victorious laugh. 

“Ugh...Frank...share” Trevor groaned, rubbing his hands through his hair.

Michael was smiling now, he saw Franklin snickering at Trevor’s embarrassment with the rest of the crew. “C’mon kid, it can't be any worse than Trevor's” He said nudging him.

Frank crossed his arms, somehow slinking farther into his seat. “It was stupid, alright. Score was two stacks”

“Two grand? On your first gig?” Michael exclaimed, pushing Franklin’s shoulder. “Fuck man, that aint bad!”

“Man, the whole score was two stacks.” Franklin admitted, “Only I didn’t see none of that shit homie, dye pack went off.”

At outrageous burst of laughter came from the back of the van. Trevor and Chef holding onto each other cackling like Hyenas. Michael tried to cover his laughing with his fist. 

“Dye pack?” Trevor laughed, “You ameture!”

“Man fuck you guys!”

Michael gave up and started laughing along with the group, trying to comfort Frank. “Hey kid, c’mon you gotta learn to laugh at yourself”

“Ya’ll are assholes”

 

They dropped Frank off down the block from the bank for him to get the boat ready. As they pulled to a stop, Trevor opened the back of the van. “Chef, I need the car” Trevor said.

Chef turned his head, “What? Why? We’re doing this right?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But Michael here likes to cry when things get too intense in there, so I need to get this little baby to let it out” Trevor explained.

Michael scoffed, turning around. “I do not you prick”

“ _ Does to! _ ” Trevor sighed, “Such a child.”

Chef followed Trevor’s instructions, walking along with Frank on the small dirt road to the Alamo sea. 

Trevor climbed in the front seat, Michael biting his cheek. “Trev, look, I’m sorry alright? I’m sorry about what I said about your mom.”

Trevor sat facing Michael, holding out his hand for him to take. Hesitantly, Michael took it in his, feeling the callouses of Trevor’s bony hands. “Michael, I need you to be real with me,  _ right now. _ ” Trevor had never been this serious, not for a long time anyway. He was staring at Michael’s soul through his caramel brown eyes. Michael looked at the wrinkles around Trev’s eyes. 

“What is it, T?”

“Are you gonna die on me in there?” He asked.

Michael waited for a joke, or something inappropriate, but nothing came. He shook his head, “I don't plan on it”

“Are you gonna fake your death, again?”

He waited again, nothing to laugh about came. “No”

Trevor leaned in close, putting his hand on the back of Michael’s neck to pull him in closer. He kissed him tenderly, inhaling his smell. Michael tightened his grip on his hand, and wrapped his other arm around Trevor. As Trevor let go, Michael still fell forward, wanting more. But there wasn’t time for that. “Don't you fucking break my heart again, Townley. Not today, not anyday” Trevor warned.

“I’ll try”.

Trevor hailed Chef to come back, Michael stared at the bird tattoo under T’s ear. 

 

They hopped out of the van from the back, Michael being the last after he rigged the sticky bomb from the front seat. As they walked through the parking lot of the bank he watched Chef and Trevor lead, both kicked the doors in, Chef shot at the ceiling, and Trevor aimed at the customers outside the teller’s window. The alarm went off right away, but they were ready.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen! We just want a moment of your time!” Chef called out making his way to the back to open the vault.

“This can go one of two ways everyone, lets get those hands in the air and those knees on the ground!”

Michael held his gun up, pointing at the tellers, “You! And You! Hands up, get the fuck out! Get on the ground, now!”

Through the sniffling and sobbing from the crowd, one man stood up, he pissed himself. He was about Trevor and Michael’s age and he was already red faced sobbing. “P-Please I just…”

Trevor held his gun up, shooting another warning sign. “I said,  _ get the fuck down pissboy! _ ”

Both Michael and Chef laughed, watching the man slowly sink into his own puddle of urine.

“Alright M, door’s ready!” Chef called,

“On it!” Michael yelled back, “T, watch the hostages”

“Right-o!”

As Michael kicked the door open, they could already hear the police barreling down the street. Trevor ran outside, a hostage in hand, yelling for them to get back before running back inside, throwing them to the ground. 

“ _ Fuck!  _ We would’ve never been able to beat that alarm” 

Trevor ran to the back, Michael and Chef had already laid out their gear on the ground and were now filling their bags with cash. “Yeah well, good things there’s other ways of beating it”.

 

Franklin was waiting at the coast of the alamo sea, the boat hidden under the shade of the tree’s. He had his comm linked up to the rest of the team, listening in on their progress. As he listened to them from his earpiece their guns firing off, he saw six boats gliding across the sea, sirens wailing and lights flashing. “ _ Shit!  _ Guys there’s cops on the bay, we can't get out this way!”

“Fuck! Alright, Frank, find another way!” Michael yelled.

Back on main street, the team cut across through an apartment building to get through. The armor was ridiculously heavy, all of them panting and sweating. Michael saw a fence in the distance and shot it down for the rest of the team to fall through. Overhead they heard a helicopter, Trevor turning his minigun upwards to shoot it down from the sky. It came flying down with a streak of grey smoke, the eruption of it hitting the each shaking the buildings around them.

“We gotta go!” Trevor yelled,

“We fuckin’ know, T!” Michael yelled back, “F, how’s the getaway coming?”

“I’m working on it! Just give me a little bit longer!”

“We ain't gonna last much longer, dye pack!” Trevor growled,

“Fuck you!” Frank shot back,

“Can. You. Please! Be adults, for five minutes!” Chef shouted back.

 

As they sat hiding behind a pile of plywood they could hear the army helicopters above them. Chef lead a distraction, getting most of the heat away from them while Frank sped down the street in bulldozer. As they heard him approaching they threw themselves into the bright yellow shovel, racing through the streets of Paleto Bay turned war zone. Out of the corner of their eyes they could see the Tanks heading towards them. 

Michael tried to hoist himself up to try and get himself ready to shoot if someone got too close to Frank. Trevor himself was conversing with Chef over the comm, planning a way for Chef to escape or at least make it out alive.

They pulled into a poultry factory, Michael and Trevor pulling themselves up while Frank shut the garage door behind them. Instinctively, Michael ran over to Frank looking for any bullets, “Were you hit? Are you okay?” he asked,

“Yeah man, I’m fine! I’m fine!”

“You wearing your fucking vest?” 

“My darlings, my loves, we have a fucking  _ town  _ to escape!” Trevor remind them, “But seriously, kid, you covered?”

“Yes! Can we go?!”

Michael and Trevor stood side to side keeping Franklin behind them as they tore through the factory. As they passed through the factory they could hear the train coming through, everyone looking at each other in unison.

“ _ Chef!  _ We’re gonna hop the train, you gone?” Michael asked

“I got a couple of army cars on my tail, I got most of the attention away from the factory” he reported.

“Alright, lose the army and hop on the next train, we’ll meet in Sandy Shores”

“Roger that”

 

Once the train passed by the Hen House, Michael and Trevor grabbed Franklin by his shirt and threw him in the cargo crate first, Franklin reversed himself, helping the two men inside. 

They fell over, laughing as they passed by the whole scores of cop cars, army trucks, and helicopters. 

“Whooooooooo, okay, shit, theres my fuckin’ cardio for the week” Trevor panted pulling his helmet off. 

“Man you two look like shit, how much those things weigh?”

Michael slipped out of the torso of his armor, handing it over, “Here kid. Way I figure, I just lost well over a 100 pounds”

The armor was completely drenched in sweat, smelled, and weighed way too much. Frank dropped it back on the floor and wiped his hands on his pants shaking his head. “Man thats fuckin’ nasty”

Trevor removed the rest of his armor, waving his hand in front. “Jesus, Mikey I am calling dibs on the shower I can't smell myself like this, reminds me how fucking depressing I am”

“Could take one together” he winked

Frank remembered the mental image from before. He shivered, shaking his head. “Man, ya’ll ain't got no self control”

In a snap Michael remembered,  _ Franklin!  _ He reached over, patting him down, “Were you hit? Are you okay?”

“Yeah man I’m fine! I wasn’t hit, I told ya’ll!” Franklin cried.

“Look, kid, you’ll thank us alright? I’ve gotten shot in the asscheeks, walked with a piece of led in my left cheek for half a mile before I realized I was hit alright?” Trevor advised, turning his phone’s flashlight on to search Franklin for any wounds.

“What the fuck is wrong with ya’ll? You know they were shooting bullets right? Not Ticks?”

“He’s okay on this side T” Michael announced,

“All good here too” Trevor confirmed.

“Man, I can't believe i’m stuck with you two” 

Trevor made kissing noises, reaching over to kiss Franklin on the cheek. “ _ Yoooou love us! _ ” Trevor sang.

Michael patted Frank on the back, “wash your cheek when you get home alright?”

 

After they jumped off the train and met with Agent Sanchez the three decided it would be best for everyone to go home, somewhat victory drinks would have to come later. 

Frank took off in a dirt bike nearby, Trevor and Michael walked back to their trailer just a few blocks away.

“J-eeee-sus christ, M, I don't even know if I want us in my place smellin’ like this” Trevor grimaced, pinching his nose.

“Yeah well, let's both just shower and go to bed, we’ll burn these clothes later” 

Trevor wrapped his hand around Michael who pushed him away, gagging, “T your fuckin’ pits man!”

“What, you don't like the smell of a strong, able bodied man?”

“I like men who don't smell like we just sweated our way to what, 400 k?”

Trevor reached into his back pocket, looking over his share. “Looks about it. Man, we gotta fuckin’ cut these FIB pricks off”

Michael sighed, “Maybe soon, T.”

Waiting at the trailer was Ron who slept on the porch couch. Trevor took off his sweat soaked shirt and laid it on top of Ron as a blanket while he snored. Michael watched Trevor’s back, his bones moving under his skin, the road rash starting to scar. “Alright cowboy, lets burn our fuckin’ skin off because that shower is calling my name” Trevor whispered.

Patricia was already asleep, so the two tiptoed to the bathroom. There was still the faint smell of vodka from the first night when Trevor jumped out of a plane, there was even some dried blood still on the toilet. 

Trevor turned the water on letting it get hot before they got in. Trevor’s shirt was already off, he took his pants off and got in first when the water was still cold. “Oooo, boy my nipples are  _ ready  _ to fucking  _ kill _ !” 

Michael chuckled, taking his clothes off and joining Trev behind him. “Move over slim”

Trevor put himself against the shower, grabbing a bottle of body wash and squeezing it into his hands. Michael tried to think if Trevor even had a regular soap, it was something so mundane but he couldn’t think. For most of their friendship they lived in and out of motels, showering at beaches, or swimming in lakes. He tried to imagine Trevor at the convenience store, trying to find the right smell, probably trying to drink some of it too.

“You want me to scrub your back, amigo?” Trevor offered, 

“Alright, just keep yourself cool alright? I’m too tired to deal with any funny business.”

“I’m  _ always  _ a gentleman” Trevor laughed putting his hands on Michael’s back. As he scrubbed, Michael wrapped his arms around his shoulders, bring the soap to his chest to lather. As Trevor got lower he put his hands on Michael’s cheeks, “ _ honk honk _ ” he said resting his head on Michael’s shoulder.

“Never gets old T” Michael breathed. 

Michael turned around to let the soap wash off of him. He grabbed the soap bottle and squeezed a dime size in his hand, gesturing to Trevor if he wanted him to do his. “Michael, I honestly don't know if I trust you scrubbin’ my back. Still store from th-”

“Knife. Yeah” Michael sighed rolling his eyes. 

He rubbed his hands together and rubbed down Trevor’s chest, trying to ignore the track marks, but paying extra close attention to the little bruises from their last excursion. 

“You know I’ve been cutting down” He said, putting a hand on Michael’s cheek.

“On what, exactly? Because you don't need to cut down on soap right now, Trev” 

“I’m serious, Mikey” Trevor breathed, “The...The heroin, you know...I’ve been trying.”

“Is that why you’re always itching for a fight”

They switched sides, Trevor let the hot water run down his body, Michael kept his eyes focused on Trevor as he put his head back with his eyes shut. “I don't get fighty, Mikey. I get real sad” he admitted.

Michael took the bottle of soap again, put enough in his hands to scrub down his arm pits and dick. The room was getting steamy, it smelled like Trevor’s soap that smelled like nothing at all.

“T, look, we’re old now right? You said you know everything about me, right?” Michael asked.

Trevor opened his eyes, he looked so tired, he was ready to pass out but he would stay up however late to hear Michael talk, even if it could be bullshit. “Practically an expert” he replied.

“I uh…” Michael winced, balling up one of his fists. The words were in his head, he just couldn’t get his mouth moving. He bit his lower lip, shaking his head, “I’m sorry”

Trevor kissed the top of his head. “Yeah yeah, stop wastin’ my water”.

 

They crawled into bed naked, too exhausted to even try to think about putting something on. 

Trevor fell face first into the bed, his arms and legs spread apart, he groaned, “Fuck the FIB”.

Michael slapped his asscheeks, “Jesus you’re always makin’ fat jokes but you’re the one who's always takin’ up all the space.”

Lazily, Trevor rolled over onto the side Michael normally occupied. “I want to hold you tonight, alright?”

Michael sat down on the edge of the bed, slowly spreading himself up against the wall, “Alright but you know I dont really sleep, so if I wake you up its your fuckin’ problem”.

“I’ll take that”.

Their skin was still wet from the shower, their hair still wet. Trevor wrapped his arms around Michael who laid down with his hands against his body. Through the darkness Michael could tell that Trevor was watching him. He rested a hand gently on Trevor’s chest. “T...I’m happy for you” He whispered.

“What, because I showered?”

“No, no...fuck…” He was fumbling. It was why Trevor wanted to hold him, he knew it was. When Trevor lost it Michael held him, but when Michael got lost in his thoughts Trevor held him. “Trevor, I don't think I could live without you”

“Except after North Yankton?”

“I knew you’d be alive. Part of me knew it. Its why I stuck around, kinda hoping you’d show up again, for better or for worse”

“You know you have children, yes? Ones born of your loins?”

“Trev, my kids hate me. They hated me since we got here, Amanda even became a better parent than I did”

“That sounds incredibly depressing”

“Yeah, it is” He sighed, “I just...I don't know, I don't regret my kids, I do love them. But...I didn’t want to lose you T. I told myself I had to go, because of my family. But we just fell apart, and I wanted you to find me. I was lost without you”

_ I was lost without you,  _ Michael’s voice cracked when he said that. Trevor could feel Michael put a hand over his mouth muffling a quiet sob. 

Trevor held him closer, kissing his head. “I hate you, I hate you so fuckin’ much Michael. But I-I love you, I love you so fuckin’ much. I don't trust you at all, but I trust you all the way. I hate that you make me so fuckin’ happy, like I’m a god damn sixteen year old and I just got made Prom Queen. I love you, Townley. Even if you fuck me over, I’ll still love you, that ain't never gonna change. You’re stuck with that fact”

Michael shut his eyes. He didn’t think about Yankton, he was already crying, he just trembled in Trevor’s arms, listening to him talk those honeyed words that felt like satin. “Trev, I hate myself so fucking much. I hate thinking about how I lived my life, I hate thinking about what I do to people. I want to be better, T,  _ please,  _ I’m trying, i’m so sorry I’ve been such a shitty person”

Trevor laughed, “there there. You’re a real piece of work, but I ain't goin’ no where...and for what it's worth...M?”

He took a deep breath, burying his face in Trevor’s collarbones. “What?”

“I like you, you’re  _ real.  _ You try to be fake, but you’re just  _ you _ . I like you, I’m sorry you don't like yourself. I don't like me either, I don't think anyone does, and I think we’re too old to fall in love with ourselves anyway. Lets just stay fucked up together, alright? We’ll be the shitty dream team.”

“We need matching jackets”

“I’ll get Ron on it in the morning”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking around ya'll <33 Just a side note: This fic is gonna in like, three chapters? So maybe soon it'll be done, maybe someday.  
> Thank you to everyone for your support!


	10. Interim: An American Marriage

It was 2004, the weather was a cloudless sunshiny day, high’s in the 90’s, and Los Santos was bustling with folk running to the beach. But the De Santa’s were at home, in their respective rooms, ignoring each other.

Michael had been exiled from his bedroom when he and Amanda fought the night prior on a subject he scarcely remembered. Now he awoke in a startle, letting out a pained scream as he clutched his chest. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was, in Los Santos, in his dull suburban life.  _ I’m safe, I’m fine, I’m safe, I’m fine,  _ he told himself as he wiped the drool from the kitchen counter where he had rested his head the night before. 

When he woke up he felt his head pounding, his mouth dry. An empty bottle of scotch was his only companion in the kitchen where he sat alone, thanking god for whoever shut the goddamn blinds. 

He didn’t know why he checked his phone, the only person who texted him was Amanda, and it was normally lists for the grocery store or her asking if he was coming to bed or if he was too drunk to get upstairs. 

_ “Just stay downstairs tonight. I’m tired of this. We’ll talk in the morning _ . -A”

He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His phone told him it was well into the afternoon, he should’ve driven Jimmy to soccer practice an hour ago but Jimmy hated it away. He yelled the whole time that he wanted to go home, that his glands were acting up. It was such a headache.

He heard the click of heels coming down the stairs. He shut his eyes,  _ maybe if I don't see her, she won't see me. _

“Jesus christ, Michael” She groaned walking past him, grabbing a protein shake from the fridge.

“What, Mandy? I know I didn’t take Jimmy to soccer practice, I got drunk and slept down here. There, we reviewed all of my fuck-ups from the last twelve hours, anything else?”

They both glared at each other, both of them simultaneously too tired to fight but also itching for one. 

“I’m going to the mall” She finally said.

“For?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” she shot back.

“My fuckin’ money, babe. It's not infinite alright? You use it all up we go back into the fuckin’ trailer park” Michael argued, shaking his head. He wanted to be softer, he always felt like he had to be ready for battle with Amanda. He just wanted to talk,  _ why did we always fight? _ The kids always asked that too. “I-I’m sorry, Mandy. I’m just--”

“Hungover, as usual” she interrupted.

“Amanda...when was the last time we talked?” 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re trying to piss me off, Michael, aren’t you?”

“I don't mean literally,  _ baby _ ” When he called Amanda that it was a threat, but she never had a reason to be afraid of Michael. All they did was fight, but they had an equal number of wins.  _ Baby  _ was Michael’s way of trying to be taken seriously, but Amanda didn’t care. “When was the last time we actually talked? Like human beings, not two people who are always at each other’s throats.”

“I dont know...before we got here, before we even ended up in that hick town”.

Michael bit his lower lip. He didn’t know what to say.  _ I didn’t imagine my life like this,  _ would be a bad thing to say, but so would,  _ I didn’t think that getting married would turn us into my parents.  _

“How are you?” He asked, holding his hand out for her to hold. She ignored him.

“Michael...look I just--”

“Mandy, I’m trying to make this  _ work.  _ Just tell me how you’re doing,  _ please. _ ”

She shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. Michael always felt guilty talking to Amanda, that he took her life away and she couldn’t escape. He wished she would leave him, take the kids even, they would be better off without him. For better or for worse, they were stuck together, and Michael couldn’t imagine a worse fate than that.

“I’m...sad, Michael. I thought things would be different here, but it's just the same shit, just a nicer place” she confessed. “I gave up everything... _ everything,  _ but we’re still just as bad off as we were in the sticks.”

Michael felt the rage rising in him, but he wanted to try to be good, he had to try. In his mind he thought to himself how he would shout,  _ You lost everything? I lost everything! I lost my best friend, I lost my home, I lost my fucking freedom, my name! _ But didn’t Amanda lose those things too? Amanda couldn’t even call her parents, they assumed that she had disappeared, maybe she was killed by the last missing robber Trevor Philips and he destroyed her body. 

“I want to be a good husband, Mand.” was all he could come up with.

“Yeah well, you’re as good a husband and I am wife.” she shook her head. She took a break from the conversation for a second, moving the hair out from her face. “Michael...do you even love me? I mean, did we ever even love each other?”

There was the question, the one that they bounced off each other in their minds constantly.  _ Do you even love me?  _ He wanted to hug her when he heard her crying at night in the bathroom, but he knew that she would try to fight him. He wanted to go shopping with her, tell her how hot she looked in her new top, but he couldn’t be normal. He didn’t know how to be normal. He tried to mirror what he saw in the movies, try to act with Amanda how he did with Trevor. But they just weren’t meant for eachother.

He chose not to answer.

Amanda shook her head, wiping fake tears from her eyes. He knew that trick, she did it a hundred times a year. “I didn’t want to be here, Michael...Not like this”

“Yeah well I didn’t wanna get fuckin’ married” he spat.

The minute he said it he his hands were around his mouth, trying to grab the words back before they reached Amanda’s ears but it was too late. 

“You didn’t want to get married?  _ I,  _ didn’t want to get married, Michael! Not to you, jesus christ!” she was yelling now, doing Michael’s headache no favors and therefore doing his temper no favors either. “I mean my god, I was following you across the country while you chased your fucking meth head best friend around, carrying to kids around and trying to hold a job!”

“You think I liked it either? I told you who I was the night we met! The first fucking night! You asked what I did and I told you! I told you I was throwing hundreds at you because the bank six towns over was fucking empty!” He was standing up now, the two of them pacing around the kitchen like animals preparing for a fight. “You knew! You chose it!”

“I didn’t want to keep the fucking kid!” Amanda cried out, “I didn’t fucking want to be a mom! I didn’t want to be a wife! You fucking stole that from me!”

“Yeah we--”

He stopped, his face dropping. In the doorway, behind Amanda a few feet away was Tracey. Little Tracey, just turned fourteen two months ago, had pimples on her forehead now and wanted to dye her hair blonde, Tracey. 

“H-Hey sweetie” Michael tried to gently piece everything back together, save his daughter from whatever she heard. Amanda turned around, automatically trying to go over and hug her. Tracey moved away, her mouth open, her eyes wide. 

“Honey, me and your dad we were ju--”

“I hate you! I hate both of you!” she exploded, she was crying now too, face cherry read. 

“Baby, c’mon, me and your mom we were just...we were just…” Michael couldn’t figure out how to fix it. Amanda looked at him for help, but he was just as lost. Tracey pushed Amanda with all her strength, barely getting her to budge before she ran upstairs sobbing.

Amanda and Michael both stood there speechless. “Well we’re not winning any parent of the year prizes” Michael sighed, rubbing his temples.

Amanda didn’t say anything, she just went upstairs after her daughter.

 

For an hour Amanda and Michael tried to get Tracey out of her room. Jimmy stood in the doorway of his room, doing nobody any favors by yelling “You should kill yourself, Trace!”. Michael threatened to kill Jimmy if he didn’t shut up, and Amanda threatened to kill Michael. 

“I hate this family!” Tracey screamed, “I hate all of you! I hate this house! I hate this town! I hate everything!”

Amanda tried to negotiate, promising to take Tracey to go pierce her ears at the mall like all of her friends. But there was no calming her down, Tracey was heartbroken, and Amanda and Michael couldn’t take back what they said. 

“Moooooom, I’m hungry!” Jimmy cried,

“Go make yourself a fuckin’ sandwhich then, huh?” Michael shot

Amanda stood up, shooting him a look. 

“Mom makes the best sandwiches!” 

“Its fucking bread and meat, what the hell is talking about?”

“ _ Michael! _ ” she hissed. 

He shook his head, letting Amanda take Jimmy downstairs.  _ That kid needs to get his shit together.  _

Michael tried again, knocking on Tracey’s door. “Trace? It's just me and you now Princess, alright?”

“I said I hate  _ everyone!  _ That means you!” she yelled from behind the door. 

Michael sat down on the cool tiles of the upstairs. “You don't hate everyone.” Michael breathed, “You love your friends right?”

“Yeah and they’re back in North Yankton! I hate how we always move, I never get to make any real friends. And then...you and mom always fight. I hate it”

He bit his lip, looking at his ring. “I’m sorry kiddo. It's going to be different, alright? We’re not moving anymore, we’re staying right here.”

“I don't wanna stay here!” She yelled, “...When is Uncle T gonna visit us?”

His heart dropped. He hated when the kids asked about him, Amanda wanted to just tell them that he was dead, get it over with. Michael wouldn’t let her, wouldn’t admit that he could be dead out there. In reality he laid awake at night, the imagine of Trevor either rotting forgotten in a motel room or riddled with bullets in a morgue somewhere made his skin crawl.

“Baby...I dont know. I don't even know where Uncle T is”

“He always finds us, and then you’re happy. He plays with me and Jimmy, and you and mom don't drink so much when he’s around.” Michael could hear her sniffle, wiping her nose with her arm. “Uncle T was always there, he was my best friend.”

Michael inhaled sharply, putting his hands over his eyes.  _ I know baby,  _ he wanted to say,  _ he was my best friend too, and I loved him, but Uncle T was going to stay crazy the rest of his life and I had to leave him behind baby. He’s not coming back, if I have to accept it, so do you. _

“Dad...Was I seriously, a mistake?”

“What? No! I mean...look, Trace we ain't uh...we ain't had the full talk yet. But, when your mom told me she was pregnant I was so fuckin’ happy. I was over the moon. I was pickin’ out names before we even knew if you were a boy or a girl. And I love you so much, baby, it hurts. You and your brother, you’re my world.”

“Then why do you drink so much? You’re always drunk”

_ Because your father has very deep self esteem issues that he never resolved and have translated into blatant alcoholism that runs in our family so watch out, kiddo.  _ “I’m...sad, baby. I’m sad we had to come here too. I miss Uncle T, I miss your Uncle Lester too. But sometimes, when you’re an adult you...you gotta do things that hurt but make sense. And you just have to keep telling yourself it's for the better.”

“I don't want to live with you or mom. I think thats for the better, I want to live with Grandma and Grandpa” 

Michael chuckled, he knew she was bullshitting. She hated Grandma and Grandpa more than Michael and Amanda. They _ like, totally cramped her style. _

“Baby, I’m sorry about what you heard. But you have to know, me and your mom, we love you so much. And we’re sorry, we make a lot of mistakes, but we’re working on it. We wanna be better, baby.”

“I still hate you”

“I know, honey. It's okay.”

 

Downstairs Amanda made Jimmy’s sandwich. She hadn’t succumb to the all natural health kick Michael did. It made her laugh whenever she saw him taking a shot of organic wheat juice and then down half a bottle of scotch only to finish it off with a cigarette. When Michael made food it was absurd, gluten free bread, organic mayonnaise, cruelty free non-gmo meats. He’d tried to give Jimmy and Tracey and avocado once on their toast and they ended up crying.  _ It's a fucking vegetable!  _ He’d scream taking a bite,  _ it's fucking delicious! _

Amanda looked up from the counter, Jimmy engrossed in his video game. 

Amanda didn't imagine her life like this, but she didn't hate her children. She adored them, she loved Tracey and Jimmy so much that it physically pained her still when they started school again. She was always checking Jimmy for bugs, giving him his inhaler. She took Tracey on shopping trips, and braided her hair. 

She felt awful for what had been said, but it wasn't untrue. Her and Michael were more strangers than anything when they decided to keep the baby, she didn't even know his last name. They were still kids, they had no clue what they were doing. The first few years were the worst, Michael was always gone, leaving Amanda alone with a cholicy Tracey. But she didn't regret it, she never did. 

She followed Michael across the country as Michael ran after Trevor. Sometimes Michael would demand that they leave in the middle of the night, Amanda knew it was to see if Trevor would follow. In her mind she told herself it was Trevor’s fault. She remembered him from their one night stand when her and Michael started hooking up. When she showed up at Michael’s trailer to tell him she was pregnant, Trevor had answered the door, hair unkempt, sweaty, his fly was still down and he had fresh bite marks on his neck.

Since then she always vilified him, like the boogeyman in her closet. Anytime her husband ignored her and the kids, or they fought, or he drank too much she blamed Trevor. She always pretended Michael wasn't home when Trevor came around to visit. If she saw his number on the voice mail box she’d delete it. If she saw him at all, even smelled something that reminded her of him it gave her a headache. If Michael and Trevor went out for days on end she wasn't an idiot, she knew how they felt about each other. She’d drink herself into a coma after the kids fell asleep so she wouldn't have to deal with an empty bed. 

It's not like Trevor felt any different about her. Since she showed up, he was jealous. She stole his best friend away, she stole any dreams Trevor had away from him. 

Trevor wanted little, he just wanted to run around with Michael forever. Hold him at night and go on adventures in the day. He loved his stupid face, he loved his voice, his thoughts, everything. He knew all of his favourite movies, his favourite ice cream flavor, even his favourite pair of socks. On Amanda’s wedding day, Trevor snuck into her dressing room while the bridesmaids were out. He had this quiet rage behind his eyes, he held her hands, kissing them, whispering,  _ ‘You can marry him, but I love him like no other, cupcake’ _ . 

But now that Trevor was gone for good, Amanda just felt sad. At first she told herself that she won, that Michael chose her. But now late at night she thought of Trevor, sobbing in an abandoned motel room. It hurt her, she hated him, he was her rival, but he had helped her raise the kids. He took care of Jimmy and Tracey when they were sick, he’d use all or his cash to buy cold and flu meds and popsicles for them. When Michael fell asleep on his way home, he’d call Amanda and let her know he’s safe and let her listen to him snoring. He always remembered the kid’s birthdays, always came to their games. He was at every barbeque, every get together, he was always nearby, usually right next to Michael, or playing with the kids.

She thought to herself maybe she was such a bad mother because she relied on Trevor so much to be the better care taker. He did it without asking, Tracey and Jimmy were basically his kids with how often he was around. But now he was gone, Tracey was in the midst of puberty and Amanda had no idea what she needed when she was upset. Jimmy kept his nose in his video games, pushing away any affection from Amanda like her touch was poisonous. 

Making things like sandwiches, or tidying their rooms was the only way she felt like she could reach them. She had no idea what they liked except the obvious, Tracey liked to dance, Jimmy liked video games. But they didn't want  _ her,  _ they didn't even want Michael. Every now and again her heart would sink when one of them would ask, “Where's Uncle T?”

Amanda tried to wave all of these thoughts away. She handed Jimmy his sandwich and kissed the top of his head, he still smelled like a baby. She wanted him to stay a little boy forever, the thought of him growing up and becoming his father terrified Amanda. 

As she was about to sit down her phone rang. It was an unknown number, out of state. She didn't know who it could possibly be, she’d never even been to Carcer City. She rubbed the top of Jimmy’s head, “I’m gonna go outside, okay baby?” She told him. He just made a noise signifying he knew she was talking to him but he was preoccupied with zombies and his sandwich.

She went outside to the pool, hitting the answer call button. Hesitantly she tried to disguise her voice in case it was someone like Trevor Philips. “Can I help you?”

“Mmm keep talkin’ sugar, that’ll help me fine” her blood went cold, her breath stopped. It was Trevor. He found her. He knew where she was. He was going to come and drink the blood from her veins and raise her kids in his image. 

“T-Trevor?” She stammered trying to whisper as she made her way to the edge of the yard, sitting under the shade of a miniature palm tree.

“Ah-Ah-Ah-Amanda!” Trevor stuttered with a laugh. “How the hell are you sister?”

She had to hang up. He had to be watching her. He was going to drown her in the pool, or bury her alive among her flowerbeds. “Fine...Where are you?”

“Carcer City. Been floatin’ around” There was something in his voice, something painful. Amanda didn't have any trust for Trevor. He could be lying, so could her phone, Lester would bug her phone if Trevor asked. But he didn't threaten, he spoke softly, and made Amanda take a step back within herself when he said, “I’m sorry.”

“For...what?”

Trevor sniffed on the other line. She couldn't tell if he’d been crying or if he’d just been binging. She didn't understand what was happening or why it was happening to her. 

“It's my fault. It's my fucking fault, Mandy. I knew that job was a bust, I’m a fucking idiot, and now...now…” he was crying. Amanda never heard him cry, she didn't think it was possible. 

She went into her default mother role, shushing him, whispering, “Hey, look, Trevor its--”

“It's not okay! Fuck!” She could hear him slam his head against something, it sounded like he was in a telephone booth. “I...I’m not mad, please, I just...I stopped by the house and I was pissed that you just...left but I get it. I killed Michael, I left him  _ to die.  _ I’m a fucking monster, Tracey and Jimmy lost their dad and it's my fucking fault.”

Just then Amanda looked into the kitchen doors. She saw Michael downstairs with Jimmy and Tracey. He was trying to fix up something for the kids. He gave Amanda a nod, that he had things under control. 

“Trevor, listen to me, it's not your fault. I don't  _ blame  _ you, okay? Michael he...he made that choice and I’m just trying to make things work now.” She had lied to Trevor before, he always knew when she was. He spent years calling out Michael, Amanda was no different. “Trevor i’m sorry. I should’ve called, fuck, I know you love the kids. I should’ve called”

“Amanda you don't have to lie to me” Trevor breathed. She never met this Trevor, he was so defeated, so filled with pain. “I know you didn't tell me because you don't want me around Trace and Jimbo. Just...tell them I loved them alright? Don't let them think I abandoned them.  _ Please Amanda” _

_ Please Amanda.  _ In all the years it was always sarcastic or it came with a grain of salt. But he was real now, his heart was broken and Amanda felt the guilt coming upon her. “I will, T. I will.”

“I saw the headstone...It's nice, I…” he started sobbing again. He couldn't talk, he just breathed hard, the muffled cries. He finally shouted out, “ _ FUCK _ ” as he hit something nearby. 

Amanda couldn't do this. Michael always was the one to really lie to Trevor. But now it was Amanda, on her own. Michael was talking to the kids, trying to get them to drink his green smoothie. “Trevor” Amanda whispered, taking a deep breath. “He loved you. And i’m sorry that things happened how they did”

She wasn't lying. It was true. Michael still mumbled his name when he slept, or would call out  _ “You see that T?”  _ as he cut someone off. Amanda accepted that Michael was never going to love her like he loved Trevor.  _ I love him like nobody else,  _ she could still feel Trevor holding her hands as he told her, so matter of fact. 

Trevor sniffed a wet booger, Amanda could hear him wiping the tears and snot from face. “Mandy, I’m…I’m in a pay phone but, I decided...Brad is in Prison, so i’m sticking around, for him but...also for you guys. I’m gonna try to get a place somewhere stable...okay? If you need something call me then,  _ please.” _

“Trevor, how’d you even find my number?”

“You wrote it on a ‘fuck you’ note you tapped to my car two years ago. I keep everything”

Amanda was quiet. Mulling over what to say, but she didn't know. But it was fine because Trevor was already talking again, asking his final request, “You promise, if you need anything...you’ll call me? Because look if I’m keepin’ my dick out in the cold--”

“Jesus christ” Amanda was laughing, she hadn’t laughed with Trevor in years. “I’ll keep you in my thoughts, alright? And, look, Trevor, take care of yourself okay? Now more than ever--”

“I’ll do what I need to do, Amanda” He asserted, “I’ll do what I want to do”

Amanda could feel him desperately clinging onto the conversation, not wanting it to end. But Michael was looking at Amanda, making a face trying to figure out what the fuck she was doing out there. She looked at the pool, imagined just drowning herself, letting this nightmare be over. “Trevor, I have to go now”

Just then Trevor panicked, crying out “Amanda, Mand, wait I--” but she hung up..

She sat outside in the backyard with her eyes shut, trying to decide if she should tell Michael or not. 

Michael would want to leave Los Santos, but it would just start the cycle of the family trying to belong somewhere over again. The kids needed somewhere stable, somewhere to call home. Amanda needed somewhere reliable that she knew she could go home to.

She threw her phone against the terracotta tiles, watching the screen shatter and some of the buttons come undone. She picked it up, Michael was still watching, he was always watching, but now he was confused. She headed back inside.

“The fuck did you do that for?” he asked her.

“We need a swear jar” Tracey sighed, pushing her green smoothie away. 

“I need a new phone, Michael.” Amanda answered, trying to give him the look that this wasn’t a discussion, this wasn’t an argument, it was a fact and he couldn’ debate it. 

He still wanted to, but he was tired of trying to figure out Amanda. They’d been married for over a decade but he still couldn’t figure her out. He rubbed his temples, Amanda slunk back inside herself waiting for him to burst out in anger. But he surprised her, he took a deep breath. “You know what, fuck it. Let's make a day of it” he said. “We’ll go get you a new phone, and then lets all go to the pier, alright kids?”

Jimmy moaned, “I didn’t even charge my gameboy for that!”

“Son, we’re going to be  _ outside,  _ you don't need your game”

Tracey perked up. She loved the pier, even if it did make her feel a like a baby and she was trying to break free from always hanging out with her parents. “Could we...go on the ferris wheel?” she asked.

“Whatever you want, babydoll” Michael beamed, “Alright, both of you go upstairs and get your shoes. I’ll start the car, Mand we still got sunscreen in the car?”

She was still thinking about Trevor Philips. Alone in Carcer City, in a sweaty phone booth probably waiting to see if she would call back. She wasn’t going to, she never wanted Trevor to call her back. She would go to the store, request a new number. She couldn’t believe she was so careless to not change it sooner, she couldn’t believe that Trevor called her, crying. 

“Mand?” Michael called out again, “You there?”

She returned back to her body, nodding. The kids had gone upstairs to grab their things. Michael had his hands on her arms, “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah...yeah I just...I didn’t change my phone number, Michael” She anxiously admitted.

“Oh...shit, w-who called?” There was panic painted across his face. She imagined telling him it was Trevor, the whole day ruined. He would call Dave and get them a new place somewhere even farther away, they’d be gone by tomorrow morning. Tracey would cry that she was losing her friends all over again, Jimmy would request a bigger room for wherever they went. She didn’t want to do that, there was no reason to. Trevor didn’t know where she was, he just had her phone number, and she was going to change it. “Jill, one of the moms from Tracey’s soccer group. She wanted to know how I was doing and if we saw Debbie’s Los Santos Barbie when we packed up the house.”

Michael let out a sigh of relief, letting himself laugh at himself. He held Amanda in a tight hug, kissing her neck. “I want us to be better, Mand. I’m sorry about how I am, I love you”

She let herself melt. She hugged him back, letting her forehead rest against his shoulder. “We’ll be okay, Michael. Let's have a good day”

 

In 2013 Amanda was waiting at the Galileo Observatory. She was sitting on a bench towards the end of the observatory, wearing a white sunhat to protect her from the Los Santos sunshine. While she waited she looked at her wedding ring, the diamond Michael probably stole or robbed a bank to get. She always told him and herself that she never wanted to know about what he did in the shadows. She wanted to pretend he wasn’t a criminal, thinking to herself that if she can't see it or doesn’t think about it, it's not real. 

It was a nice day in Los Santos. Only a few clouds occupied the endlessly blue sky. She remembered on one of the “dates” her and Michael use to go on when they cared about their marriage, he brought her here. She commented on how his eyes were the same color as the sky, he just laughed wrapping an arm around her.

The Observatory that day wasn’t very crowded, a few young families walked along the outside with their kids. Some Tourists took pictures with the city as their backdrop. Amanda swore she had a picture of her and the kids doing the same thing, but it was probably still at the house.  _ God,  _ the house. She’d been there recently, seen how bad it was. Jimmy had dropped off Michael’s car a few days prior and said that some suspicious guys were hanging around outside the gate. She was worried, more so than usual. She didn’t want to see Michael, but she needed answers. She couldn’t call on Franklin again, it made her depressed. He was almost the same age as Jimmy, she felt like she was enabling him when she asked about her husband. But that only left one person, her last resort: Trevor.

When she had called him earlier that morning he sounded as if he was working in a metal shop, screaming over the sound of a drill. He agreed to meet with her but only at the Observatory, not specifying why. Amanda, having known Trevor for well over a decade, knew it was probably just a trap for him to either embarrass her or scare her. But she was older, tired, and being thrown off the side of the Observatory didn’t sound too bad. 

As she thought on the many possible ways that Trevor Philips could kill her, she could hear his Bodhi driving up in the parking lot. He was wearing Michael’s shirt, she could see it from a hundred yards away. She turned her head, feeling a strange confliction of jealousy and indifference.

“Ah-maaan-daaa” Trevor sang as he approached her holding his arms out for a hug, “Ain't you a sight for sore eyes, your tits get bigger since I last broke into your house and saved your daughter from being a national laughing stock?”

“Hello Trevor” she grimaced, his name leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Trevor sat down beside her on the bench, wrapping an arm around her. She was  _ exceptionally  _ thankful she’d worn a button-down to this meeting, no telling what germs were on Trevor. “So you wanted to meet, but sweetheart, I gotta be honest with you” Trevor sighed, “You and me? It was just a kids dream you know? A little bit of fun back in the day, nothing more! I’m sorry, but we can't go back to how we were. I’m sorry I’m the one who got away”

With that Amanda let out a laugh, holding her stomach at the insinuation. “Oh god,  _ yes of course, Trevor. You’re  _ the one who escaped” she cried, wiping a tear from her eye.

He playfully punched her shoulder, laughing, “So now that we got that out of the way, what’d you want to talk to me about? Because those large human looking shits on your lawn? Not mine”

She rolled her eyes.  _ What do I even want to know?  _ She asked herself. She’d been thinking of what she wanted to ask him all morning, but now she couldn’t find the words. So the question came out as simple as she could piece it together, she asked, “Is Michael alive?”

Trevor turned his head, a puzzled look on his face. Slowly he answered, “ _ Yeah?  _ I mean, I left him thirty minutes ago, he could be keeling over having a heart attack right now, Sister. Say, did you two sign a prenup?”

She smiled now, that was the basis of what she needed to know. As long as Michael was alive, most of her anxiety washed away. “If he’s alive, then why isn’t he at home?” she continued, “I went to the house, it was deserted”

Trevor chuckled, a sick grin appearing on his face. “Oh? You don't know? Me and Mikey? We’re back in  _ love,  _ sweetness. Moved in with me, got out names tattoo’d on our dicks, it's official”

Amanda rolled her eyes. She knew he was just fucking with her. “Oh Trevor, It really does surprise me that you managed to stay single all these years with that award winning personality and wit”

“Hard to find people who really appreciate it, Mand. Mikey does”

“Mmm hmm, I’m sure. So why were there bullets all over the house?”

Trevor shrugged. “Fuck if I know, probably has to do with Michael kidnapping a mob boss's wife”

Amanda was shrill, she shrieked, “What?!”

Trevor laughed, “Okay, maybe  _ ‘kidnapped’  _ ain't the word for it, so much as...rescuing, and not so much  _ Michael  _ doing it, more as...well, I’ve always been a protector of women, Mand”

Amanda was rubbing her temples, trying to center herself, find her inner peace. But with Trevor so close to her, it was like trying to find shelter in a storm. “Why...Trevor, why...Why would you do that?” she breathed.

“ _ God,  _ you two are the same! You know, I saved Patricia, she was in  _ pain!  _ All Martin did was cheat on her and belittle her! Now? I worship the  _ ground  _ she walks on, give her whatever she wants, I  _ protect  _ her! We’re in  _ love _ !”

Amanda looked at Trevor, brows furrowed. “How old is she?” 

Trevor groaned, “ _ Fifty-Seven,  _ alright? She’s nine years older than me, that ain't shit!” 

Amanda tried to conceal a laugh, and a jab at Trevor and his mother issues. “You two are the real deal, huh?”

“Yes,  _ Amanda,  _ we are. You know, maybe once Michael gets home he’ll have learned a thing or two about how you treat women!”

Amanda rolled her eyes, “Sure, Trevor, and when will that be?”

Trevor scratched his neck, shrugging, “I don't know”

Amanda sighed. She remembered all those nights alone with the kids, when Michael had been gone for almost three days she’d call. Most of the time Trevor picked up, she’d ask when Michael was coming home and Trevor would say in the same tone, “ _ I don't know _ ”

“Trevor, h-he can't stay out there!” she stammered, “He needs to come home, you have to fix things with this,  _ Martin  _ guy”

Trevor stood up from the bench, hand on his hip, the other rubbing his stubble. “You got some fuckin’ nerve, you know that Mand? I mean you  _ left  _ the guy, you left him heartbroken! Heartbroken! And now you think you know what's best for him?”

“ _ I’m  _ his wife, Trevor!”

“Yeah and I’m--” Trevor bit his lip, mulling it over.  _ What am I?  _ He wondered constantly, for almost twenty years. After Amanda married Michael, he certainly wasn’t his boyfriend anymore, but he wasn’t a hookup either. He was... _ Trevor.  _ “Bah! Whatever, look, you need to call him”

Amanda sighed, “No, I don't”

“ _ Yes _ , you do. All he fucking talks about is getting back to Los Santos to fix things! All he does is try to call you and the kids and no one picks up, unless your brats want some cash! I mean  _ jesus,  _ Amanda you are fucking  _ spoiled! _ ”

With that she stood up, stood face to face with Trevor, inches from his face. She could see all of the individual wrinkles in his skin now, the faded scars, the new scratches. She wondered if she’d aged that much too. “You don't  _ fucking  _ know me!” She spat.

“No, I don't! But I know Michael” He yelled back, “I know  _ everything  _ about him! I’ve seen him at his best, his worst, I’ve hated him, and god damn it, I...I always loved him!”

Trevor was pacing around now, his voice was cracking. He wasn’t going to cry in front of Amanda, she’d heard him once, he didn’t want him to hear him like that again. He leaned against the railing of the overlook, running his hands through his hair. “I thought...I thought that me and him, we’d always be together. But  _ HA-HA,  _ I was wrong, and he chose you…I dont...I dont”

_ I don't know why he chose me,  _ Amanda wanted to say,  _ It doesn’t feel like he chose me, Trevor. It feels like he just wanted me to see how miserable he could get in the sun. _

But instead all that came, was another question, “Do you remember when you called me, a year after we disappeared?”

“Did Michael know about that phone call?” he asked,

“No...I didn’t want him to know that you had my phone number” She admitted sheepishly, “Look, Trevor, I don't like you. You don't like me. But I’m sorry that I picked up when you called me, and that I lied to you. I know you…” She sighed, shaking her head, trying to find the words.

“That I bore my soul out to you, let you see me at my most vulnerable, my lowest point, and then you hung up on me?” He asked

“Yeah. I’m sorry”

Amanda was a lot of things, but she wasn’t a liar. Her and Trevor had become very adamant truth tellers having known Michael. They’d seen what a single lie could do, kill dozens of men, destroy buildings, break a man’s heart. They didn’t lie, Amanda, didn’t lie. Not anymore.

“Thank you” Trevor smiled. The next thing Amanda knew he had his arms around her, hugging her as tight as he could. For all she tried not to, she enjoyed it. She  _ understood  _ why Michael loved Trevor like this. He was so strong but soft, so tall and protective. He held her like she was the only person in the world, despite having hated her for years. 

As he let go, he held her shoulders, he demanded, “Call your husband”  in that quiet voice he used before he lost it.

“I’ll e-mail him” She whispered, avoiding his gaze. 

Trevor smiled, kissing the top of her head. “You know, I could kill you” He laughed.

“Yeah...How’d you do it today?” She asked coyly.

“I’d throw you off the side of this hill, meet you at the bottom and cut your limbs off, bury you all over LS. I’d put your severed head on the hood of my truck”

She chuckled, “How sweet, you talk to Michael like this?”

“Amanda, that's what foreplay is for me and Mikey”


	11. Derailed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for this chapter

_ “Michael, _

_ I’m not ready to talk, I’m just writing to let you know I’m with the kids and I’m safe. I don't know what you’re doing with Trevor, but I wish you only the best.  _

_ I’ll call you when I’m ready. Until then I think you should think about what makes you happy. I hope you find it. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Amanda” _

 

Michael spent the better half of the morning re-reading Amanda’s e-mail. It was like she was in front of him, hissing those words at her.  _ I think you should find what makes you happy,  _ what did that even mean? Michael didn’t know how to be happy, he was made up of rage and depression and regret. He felt like he had a hole in his heart the past ten years, and tried to fill it with booze, women, and old movies rewatched on repeat for hours. He only knew how to be depressed, how to pity himself and then cry that his life was in shambles. 

His first instinct was to call Dr. Friedlander, confess that he wanted Amanda to punch him in the face so he could feel better about being so horrible. But of course Friedlander was out of the office, why would anything ever work for Michael?

Instead he went out to the wilderness, past the train tracks, up on a hill. He brought a pack of cigarettes to work through, six beers, and a fully charged iFruit to reread Amanda’s message over and over again.

As he watched the trains go by he continued with his contemplation.  _ What did I want?  _ He thought to himself. He tried to think of the last time he was happy, really happy. His first thought was North Yankton, twelve years ago, long before him and Trevor had a falling out. Him, and Trevor kidnapped Lester for his birthday, got wild and ended up going missing for three days. Michael chuckled to himself as he remembered Lester moaning that all he wanted to do for his birthday was to sit at home and work on his computer. But of course, Trevor and Michael didn’t take that for an answer.  _ “We’re the real deal, Lester! We got the Jock, The Punk, and you, Lester the Molester, are the geek!”  _ Trevor insisted.

Of course, not even that was the last time he was happy, it was just the first thought that came to mind. There was another time, maybe nine years prior when Michael and Trevor and Amanda got drunk watching the kid’s winter play. Amanda denied any involvement in the event, but Michael had video evidence of Amanda taking a swing of her paper bag and crying out that Jimmy was from her uterus and she loved him. 

Then there was also that time when when Michael and Amanda tried to bake four hundred cupcakes and ten cakes for Jimmy and Tracey’s school bake sale. They ended up not being able to finish it, Amanda started sobbing that she just wanted to be a good mother. Michael called Trevor to talk shit about how nasty the other moms were to Amanda. Instinctively, Trevor showed up with a truckful of baked goods from the supermarket, and the three of them spent the next few hours trying to make the best arrangement out of them so Stacy at the PTO could eat shit.

There was also when Solomon Richards put out a new movie, but Amanda absolutely refused to watch it with Michael, she hated Richard’s movies. Trevor was a few towns away on a binge, him and Michael had fought a few weeks prior. Sheepishly, Michael called Trevor to ask if he’d go with him. Trevor drove through the night and the two of them went to go see it the next afternoon. Trevor was high and talked the whole time, but Michael was happy to see Solomon’s work, and for Trevor to hold him in the dark.

_ Trevor. That fucker.  _ He was always there, all of the good times, all of the bad. He would run across the state to watch a movie with Michael. He’d bring possible stolen baked goods to his doorstep so Amanda could win some respect from the other suburban moms. He’d make a poorly rehearsed children’s winter play the event of the year. He’d get  _ Lester  _ to go out and party. 

Then it hit him like a train.

_ Trevor.  _

_ Trevor, he’s it, he’s what makes me happy.  _ It was like being punched in the gut for Michael to admit this to himself. He fell to his knees, hands over his face. 

Michael loved Trevor, that was it. He loved him so much it hurt. That wasn’t the revelation, it was that  _ Trevor  _ was what made Michael happy, No matter where they were. It was why all these years out in the sun, Michael couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. He pretended to be good, pretended to be someone he’s not. But he was Michael Townley, he was chaotic, impulsive, and manipulative. He  _ loved  _ being a criminal, he loved the thrills that came with it, he loved the senseless cash. He loved knowing that Trevor was there every step of the way with a gun in his hand covering Michael’s back. He loved waking up knowing that Trevor was there next to him. He loved how Trevor did what he wanted and walked the earth as if he owned it all. He loved how shamelessly chaotic he was, how he enabled Michael to be who he really was. 

_ I can't do this, I can't think like this, I can't do this.  _ His mind was racing, and it was just then that Trevor texted him,  _ “Me3t @ hous now. Need 2 talk” _

“ _ Fuck! _ Fuck, fuck, fuck, cock, fuck!” Michael was yelling as he stood up. He couldn’t imagine what on earth Trevor wanted to talk about, lord knows it would probably be something out left field.

As Michael got back in his car and smoked one last cigarette he thought back to when he first met Trevor. He thought he was so cool, he’d follow him around like a puppy. He’d had crushes in the past, and lord knows he had crushes on other men long before Trevor came along. But Trevor exudes this energy from him that drove Michael crazy. 

When Michael was young he was still in the variety that he didn’t believe he was interested in men. He told himself that he didn’t feel as intensely about men as he did women, that he wouldn’t think about spending the rest of his life with another man. But Trevor came along, the outlier, the one who went against whatever laws or rules were set forth for him. 

A younger Michael always thought thought that someday Trevor would leave for good, break up with him, or Michael would leave him. They’d part ways and that would be it, no big deal. But here they were twenty years later, and Michael had just realized he was truly,  _ completely,  _ and utterly  _ still  _ in love with Trevor Philips, and he was what made him happy.

“God I hate myself” he groaned.

 

While Michael waited for Trevor he tried to distract himself from his recent revelation with other plans. He had to get back to Los Santos, he couldn’t spend anymore time in Sandy Shores. He felt like everyday he spent there was another year shaved off his lifespan. But Trevor wasn’t going to let Patricia go, at least not unless she wanted to. Michael had tried to convince her to leave in the past, but she simply smiled and asked why she would want to go home. 

He started searching the internet for Aztec artifacts for sale, maybe something like that could help him get back into LS.

As he browsed the web looking at 100% Genuine Aztec Artifacts for sale, Ron came through.

Ron after all this time was still paranoid about Michael and didn’t trust him. But now he was growing more confident, he’d been testing Michael since he showed up. Now he stood taller, asking “Trevor about?”

“He’s probably out somewhere drinking human blood or eating household pets” Michael deadpanned. 

“He’s not  _ that  _ bad” Ron defended meekly, “Well...I mean he is, but he’s got a sensitive side too”

Michael chuckled to himself. He had at least three dick jokes rambling around in his head to tell Ron, but kept them to himself. “Oh yes he’s very sensitive, especially when he gets his feelings hurt he’s devastated”

Michael looked Ron up and down. He’d seen him a few nights ago standing on top of his trailer, talking into a walkie talkie, screaming when he saw Michael watching him. He had a new scrape on his chin from the whole event. Michael laid back in the couch putting his phone away, attempting to make friendly conversation. He decided to test Ron too. “So what's your story?”

Ron scoffed. “I ain't got a story! I’m an independent thinker, living out here away from the man!”

Ron paced around the room, looking Michael up and down until he put a leg up on the couch, getting in close. “You know, from what I can tell, you’re like a high school athlete. Living off  _ old glories.  _ You  _ use  _ to be able to handle heat, but now you’re worried if your loafers are getting scuffed”

Michael raised his brows, turning his head to Ron. He smiled, gesturing for him to get closer. As Ron cocked his head, Michael grabbed onto his shirt, hissing “Anymore bullshit comes out of your mouth you’re gonna learn about my past glories first hand, you understand?”

Michael let him go as Ron nervously laughed, backing away. “A-Absolutely sir...T-That came out wrong, all wrong. I um...Could you tell Trevor that the monthly train is coming through?”

Michael raised a brow, “What the fuck’s a ‘Monthly Train’?” 

Michael watched Ron perk up as the door creaked open, Trevor leaning against the doorway, Patricia holding his hand. “ _ The  _ Monthly Train” Trevor corrected.

Michael felt his heart skip just to see Trevor in the same room as him.  _ Fuck are you kidding me are you fucking kidding me, I’m forty eight.  _ “Where have you two been?” he asked wiping his brow.

“Getting some fresh air” Trevor smiled.

Patricia grinned, resting the back of her palm against Trevor’s cheek as she moved towards the living room area. “Talking of beautiful things” she sang.

Michael shook his head, “Ah yes, I hear Stockholm Syndrome is very nice this time of year”

Trevor pointed a finger at Michael, commanding “Hey, watch your mouth boy, alright?”

Michael stood up from the sofa, watching as Trevor further explained, “It's always been a dream of ours... _ The Train of Dreams _ ”

Michael turned his head to see Ron grinning from ear to ear, holding his hands in excitement as Trevor explained. “The hell are you talking about?”

“I’m  _ talking  _ about gold!” Trevor went on, moving in closer to Michael, putting his hands on his sides. “Enough, to keep Ron in trailers, and  _ you  _ in therapy, and  _ enough  _ to pay off that Mexican and get  _ you back in town, baby! _ ”

Michael reached out as Trevor lifted him up in the air, carrying him by his asscheeks. Michael groaned, “This better be fucking good!”

Trevor continued cheering, bringing Michael outside where he dumped him off, grimacing as he waved the air in front of his face. “Agh...Jesus, we’ve talked about this personal hygiene thing before bro. I invite you into my home and this is the thanks I get? Jesus it's like living with a fuckin’ horny skunk over here”

“Yeah you’d know horny” Michael winked

Trevor grabbed his dick under his pants, licking his lips, “Yeah cowboy? Well get to Raton Canyon Bridge, and we can talk horny all you like later”

Michael chuckled, getting into his car and shaking his head. He saw Trevor speed off his dirt bike, both immediately filled with anxiety over how Trevor planned to get onboard a moving train and also wondering how possible it was that he’d die during all of this. 

 

After Michael docked the boat at the nearby pier once he finished stealing it. he ran back to the trailer, realizing it was better to do what he needed to do then, rather than later. Ron was sitting out on the porch, perking up when he saw Michael running. “You’re already done?” He beamed

“No, Trevor’s creepy friend, I need to change my clothes”

“My  _ name  _ is Ron!” He yelled as Michael ran right past him, ducking inside the trailer. 

He went into the bedroom and shut the door. He needed to breath, have five seconds to himself.  _ Find your center, find your happy place, fuck my happy place  _ he thought to himself. 

What he was actually doing was packing. Whatever they were getting off the train had to be enough to pay off Madrazo, and if that was the case he wanted to be out of Sandy Shores that night. He knew if he didn’t leave soon, he’d be in Sandy Shores until he keeled over from a heart attack. 

Immediately he grabbed his duffle from the top of the closet and began throwing his clothes inside haphazardly. Most of his hawaiian shirts were ruined, sweat and blood stains had taken them. He’d try to further get the stains out when he got home to Los Santos, but they would always have a thick outline from where the sweat and blood pooled.

When he was nearly done, Trevor came in over the comm, the sound of train tracks and his motorbike going. “ _ Mike! Mike you there?”  _ he yelled

“Yeah, what’d you need T? You about to hop on the train?”

“What? No! I mean, I’m  _ on top  _ of the train, I’m riding to the conductor's car”

“You’re doing  _ what? _ !” Michael shrieked, but his anxiety was just met with Trevor’s laughter.

“Look, I need you to add some bombs to your shopping list alright?”

“Alright, I’m at the trailer, I’ll be there soon.”

“The trailer? Why are you there, what’d you doin’ pokin’ around my stuff, we got work to do!”

“Yeah, yeah I know, that's why I’m getting changed” Michael  _ was  _ actually going to change into his spy gear from the IAA heist. It was fitting for this kind of thing, plus it made him feel sexy and confident. 

“W-What? Getting changed?? Jesus what’ve you turned into!”

Michael just sighed, hearing Trevor return to his part of the mission. 

Michael quickly changed into his spy gear, and then went through Trevor’s nightstand for all of the things he’d acquired at his stay in Sandy Shores.

His neon blue tourist hat, him and Trevor’s shitty photo booth pictures, the broken tape he’d stolen from Trevor’s Bodhi marked  _ “Tonight”.  _ At the bottom of the nightstand was their picture from Alberta.

Michael held it in his hands as long as he could. Anytime he realized he loved Trevor as much as he did, he did something horrible. When he left Trevor behind the bar in North Yankton, it was immediately after he realized that he loved him more than anyone else in his life. Now he was leaving him again, but not for good. He was just going home, at least, that's what he told himself.

_ I couldn’t make things right with him,  _ he thought,  _ not as long as I can't tell him about North Yankton. And he can never find out about what really happened. _

When Michael finally emerged from the bedroom he found Ron holding a box of bombs in his hands, marked in red sharpie,  _ “BOOM” _

“You’ll need these” he told Michael.

“Thanks” Michael took it in his hands, looking Ron up and down, possibly, hopefully for the last time.

“Hey...uh…” Ron was grimacing as he tried to piece the words together in his mind, “Trevor...I want him to be happy”

“Yeah, you think he’s happy?” Michael asked

“I don't know. But, he’s my best friend too. But he’s happier with you, I think, so…” Ron sighed. He took off his hat, and looked up at Michael. “Please don't let him die. Don’t hurt him, okay?”

Michael watched Ron with his tail between his legs. He’d been trying to figure him out all this time, but here it was. Ron was, for better or for worse, truly Trevor’s friend. He  _ loved  _ him like a friend should, wanted good things for him  _ like a friend should.  _ As sad and pathetic he may have been to Michael, Ron was his own person. And as his own person, in someway, ended up in Trevor’s life and became one of the few positives in it. 

This made Michael smile.  _ He’ll be okay, Ron’ll watch him. _

“I’ll do my best” Michael wasn’t completely lying. 

 

 

As Michael made it towards the bridge he felt himself getting more and more anxious. Trevor had apparently made it inside and was driving the train at full speed towards the Raton Canyon pass. Michael could imagine what Trevor was going to do to get the train to topple over, but it gave Michael a headache. 

“M, M, I ain't far out - you under the bridge?” Trevor yelled via comm.

“Approaching the Inland now. I’ll power through to the bridge”

As he made his way through the inland he prepared the charges, and got out his pistol in case Merryweather was already there. As he turned around the corner, he could see the train coming full speed.

“How’re you doin’?” Trevor asked

“I’m living the life, my friend! This is quite a spot you picked” Michael nervously laughed as he watched another train coming down the opposite end.

“Enjoy it now, because it's about to start rain’ fire” Trevor growled.

Just then Michael saw him jump from the train as it crashed into the other. Michael went full speed ahead as Trevor fell came flying from the skies. “Theres my  _ fucking  _ Angel” Michael groaned.

Michael watched the other freights land in the water, searching for Trevor as he pulled up. He saw him emerge from the wreckage a few seconds later, swimming to the shore. “Set the charges on the orange box!” He panted as he gripped his knees.

“Deep breaths there, don't want you havin’ a fuckin’ heart attack on me, T” Michael laughed.

“Just do your fucking job, shit stain!”

 

Michael could hear the battle happening overhead, trying to not think about it. He could hear boats exploding, helicopters overhead, Trevor also mentioned some snipers. “Retire in Los Santos, they said! It’ll be fun they said!” He yelled as he looked through the various boxes in the freight.

Many of them contained documents, rather than artifacts or gems. Michael didn’t have time to read them to see if they were valuable or not, so he just went farther and farther into the murky depths.

At the very bottom of the freight in a small compartment, submerged in water, he found it. It was a real deal artifact like the ones Martin had in his house.  _ This is my ticket out, this is it.  _

“ _ Michael! Can you hurry it up, we finally got a window to leave!”  _ Trevor yelled

“Yeah, yeah I got it! I’m bringing the boat around, get ready!”

As Michael climbed into the boat he saw Trevor already swimming towards him. He held out his hand, pulling him up into the Dinghy. Before Trevor even sat down Michael had the boat going down the river. 

Trevor looked behind the seats and saw two duffel bags, raising a brow. “His and hers?” He asked

Michael laughed anxiously, “Weapons are the ones in the right”

“Yeah, what's in the le--”

Trevor’s questioning was interrupted by the appearance of two other boats shooting at them. Michael yelled as Trevor ducked down, grabbing Michael’s Combat Machine gun as they raced through the rapids. 

“You know, you’re right, Mikey. Nature, it's such a beautiful thing” Trevor sighed,

“There ain't nothin’ natural about this, T, nada!” 

Trevor was the definition of ‘Spray and Pray’ if he was given an automatic. He just screamed, never letting the trigger go. Michael felt a deep pain in his chest every time a bullet was wasted by Trevor shooting up in the air. 

But he wasn’t going to lie to himself. When he turned around and saw Trevor in full rampage mode, eyes focused, teeth gritting, he felt himself get hot. Young or old, Michael loved Trevor when he lost it like this.

“ _ Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”  _ Trevor yelled as he unleashed wave after wave of bullets. 

When a Helicopter started trailing them, that was when Trevor lost it. Something about flying objects that he wasn’t commanding really did a number on him. In seconds the helicopter was falling towards earth, taking out the two Dinghy’s tailing them. That only left the jeep tailing them, but even then Trevor’s poor aim could take care of them. One of his bullets shot out their tire, the driver losing control of the vehicle drove into a rock and went flying through the windshield. 

Taking advantage of the free second, Trevor turned around to admire Michael’s change in attire. Leaning over he smirked, “Hey M, good thing you changed your clothes. You couldn’t have done this without that weird vest thingy”

“Hey fuck you, it's a tactical garment”

“You look like you just left your second job as a gimp” Trevor laughed, “So you feelin’ alive? Juice pumpin’ through your glands?”

“My glands are just fine without the crashing trains, exploding helicopters, sinking boats…” Michael trailed off.

“C’mon, we gotta get this baby on land. Pull her up down the coast” Trevor instructed as he climbed back up front. 

“Whoa, man, you work hard for your living!” Michael yelled, “So boil it down for me, how much do you think you make per senseless killing, huh? A couple nickels? A few dimes?

“Oh, ha ha. Times are tough, have been since we put  _ you  _ in the ground” Trevor sneered.

“Hey, you had your savings!”

“That I couldn’t access because you blew everyone’s identities! You know Brad had  _ nothing  _ for his defense, just popped up in super max”

“He knew the risk” was all Michael could come up with, but he knew it wasn’t enough. Trevor couldn’t become anymore disappointed in him than he already was, but Michael knew he was about to do worse. In his head he’d already gone over Trevor finding out what Michael took from the freight, the fight that would come with it. But he was in his element as he drove the Dinghy out into the Pacific Ocean. He knew how to play Trevor, and he had already thought of a million different ways to do so once they landed on the North Chumash shores.

As they pulled up on the coast Michael drove the Dinghy into the sand. He hopped out holding the briefcase, smiling sadly as he saw the two cars. “His and her’s huh?”

“Yeah, for your  _ independent spirit! _ Ron set it up, because  _ Ron  _ is dependable”

Michael sighed, making his way towards the truck on the side. As he did he hoped that Trevor would be too out of it to notice him leaving without showing the take. Make a quick and easy exit from their time in Sandy Shores. But Trevor knew Michael, he called after him “Hey, hey, hey, hey! Before you go, show me the loot”

Michael turned around, watching Trevor trail behind him. “Alright” Michael said biting his lower lip. He went to the hood of the trunk, popping open the case to reveal the statue. He didn’t bother looking at Trevor, he knew the look he was making. “Perfect”

“For fucking what?” Trevor spat

“For squaring things off with that Mexican psycho. We give him this, and you end your relationship with that little lady. And  _ maybe,  _ just maybe, we won't be dead men in Los Santos” Michael explained as he shut the case.

“If I don't see that fucking silicone city again, it’ll be too soon. But this? This is  _ my job!  _ Not your call to make” Trevor argued as he watched Michael slowly trying to slip the case out of his field of few. Trevor saw this and reached for the case, playing tug of war with Michael for it.

“Nah, nah, your job was fucking things up with the mexican in the first place”

“ _ My  _ job,  _ my  _ score, get your own!” Trevor yelled as he ripped the case out from Michael’s hands. He scoffed, turning away from Michael shaking his head.  _ Of course, of course he’d do this,  _ Trevor thought to himself. 

But Michael was already prepared to get it back. In his head the only thing he thought about was if he’d be back in Los Santos in time to order Pizza. The manipulation came easy, all he had to do was point a finger, and call out  “Wait, you give me that case...i’ll give you something bigger”

Trevor stopped dead in his tracks, trying to mull over what lie Michael was going to tell him. Trevor already knew he was about to be played with, but at that moment he thought he could still win. They  _ had  _ just spent the last month together, he liked to believe that Michael would act like a normal truthful person at least for a second. “I don't want your cock, Michael” Trevor spat

“Bigger. Union depository”

Trevor turned around, saw Michael doing his neck twitch when he got excited, when he wanted something bad. “Fuck off. Can't be done”

“I never said impossible. Just... very difficult” he shrugged.

“Verging suicidal, Mikey.”

“That a line you’re afraid to cross?” Michael teased.

He was playing a game of chicken with Trevor.Michael dangled what Trevor wanted more than anything, what  _ they  _  wanted, what they dreamed about. And damned if Michael didn’t know how to pitch a heist to Trevor. He had his arms open, slowly making his way towards him, “C’mon T...You remember the dreams! Couple of kids, pulling jobs...always holding out for the big one. I know it sounded crazy before, but c’mon, look at us now”

Trevor didn’t look at him. He knew he was being played, but he couldn’t stop it now. He just looked at the sand under Michael’s feet, holding the case above his head. But Michael already had his cold hands around Trevor’s face, speaking those honeyed words that made him melt “It’ll be me and you again, T. For real this time. You and me, _ together _ . With us, Lester, and Franklin, we could do this”

Trevor looked up, he saw Michael looking into his soul. He knew how to play Trevor, he was the master at it.  _ Manipulator, snake, liar,  _ all those things made up the worst of Michael Townley. And Trevor knowingly fell in love with him, was  _ still  _ in love with him despite it all.

He breathed hard, trying to think, he couldn’t think, not with Michael toying with him like this.

Then Michael let go, his hands leaving the warmth of Trevor’s face. Trevor felt himself falling forward some, trying to feel Michael’s hands on his face a little longer. “Ay...keep the case” was Michael’s finishing touch. The fake indifference towards Trevor, towards the possibility of the Union heist. It did what he needed it to do, sent Trevor running towards him yelling “ _ Fuck!  _ Okay, hey! Hey!”

Michael smirked as he opened the car door, seeing Trevor ready to beg. Trevor was hurting, Michael saw it, but didn’t feel any remorse.  _ This is who I am.  _ Trevor threw the case to Michael, shaking his head “Whatever. Keep that silly thing...and fuck it! Keep Patricia too”

Michael laughed, as he hopped in the truck, gingerly placing the case on the passenger seat floor. He threw his bags in the back of the truck, barely listening to Trevor now. “Y’know, I  _ respect  _ that lady far too much to hold her back! You know I do!” Trevor yelled

“Aw, well thank you, T” Michael laughed as he turned the key.

Trevor slammed the door shut, watching Michael reveal in his accomplishment of manipulating Trevor once more. “Just know I’m gonna keeping my eye on you  _ every fucking inch of the way,  _ alright?” Trevor threatened pointing a finger.

Michael took Trevor’s hand, pulling it in for a kiss. “Sure thing, T.”

Trevor recoiled, taking his hand back. He spat, “And if that bastard cheats on her one more time--”

“C’mon T.  _ I know you. _ We  _ both  _ know you aint the marrying type” 

Trevor put his hands in his pockets, averting his eyes from Michael now.  _ I know you,  _ Trevor shook his head,  _ I guess you do, Michael. _

“Hey” Michael called, “It's good to be back in business, eh?”

Trevor solemnly shook his head, before he admitted, “Guess you know me, Mikey”

“Like no other”

As Michael drove off leaving a trail of dirt behind him, he called out “The big one!”

Trevor shouted at the top of his lungs in an attempt to out-do him, “The big one!”

He watched Michael drive off the beach sadly. He sat in the sand, breathing hard, thinking about how he’d have to go home. The other bag in the Dinghy, Trevor knew it was Michael’s things. He would be gone, out of his trailer, and back in Los Santos pretending that the time they spent in Sandy Shores never happened.

_ He never fucking changes. _

Trevor reached in his pocket when he felt his phone ringing. The cracked screen told him it was Ron, who anxiously cried out “Trevor! Are you alive?”

“What? You sayin’ I’m an ameture, Ronald?”

“Oh, n-no Trevor! It's just--”

“Just I took Michael along this time and not you?” Trevor sighed.

“Well, yeah. Did you get what you wanted?” Ron asked.

_ No Ron, you fucking moron, I got screwed, I got fucked by the Michael again you gutless fuck wit.  _ “Not really... _ fuck _ ” Trevor wasn’t about to show weakness to Ron, but he definitely wasn’t in the mood to put up a front. 

Ron waited on the other end to see if Trevor needed to say anything else. When he was completely sure that Trevor didn’t need to say anything else, Ron started, “H-Hey Crazy Trevor”

“What, Nervous Ron?”

“T-There's a new episode of Impotent Rage, I recorded it on your TV. Could I...Could I watch it at your place with you?”

Trevor was smiling, chuckling to himself. Shaking his head, he sighed, “You are absolutely pathetic. If it keeps you from offing yourself, sure, Ron. I’ll be home in a bit, don't you touch any of my shit”

“Okay Trevor!” Ron beamed, “Oh...and T-Trevor?”

“What,  _ Ronald? _ ”

“I...I think Michael left”

“Yeah, he does that”


	12. Preceding: Alberta, Canada.

They were somewhere outside Lamont on a cliff when it started to snow again. Michael held his hand out to touch the snowflakes that so delicately fell from the sky. He was fresh faced, without a wrinkle or a scar, just his mole on his left cheek. In his other hand he held a pocketbook he’d been reading for hours on the ride out to the pickup. Michael anticipated a blizzard, Trevor didn’t think so. 

As Michael admired the snow, Trevor, with his long brown hair tied up in a ponytail, was completely unaffected by the snow. He was simply loading the crates of cargo in the back of their El Camino, eager to get out of Canada.

“Hey, Princess, you gonna help me out or do I get your cut?” Trevor spat.

Michael turned, smiling, “Sorry, T. I just ain't seen snow like this before”

“You’re from  _ Boston _ ” Trevor spat, “You about to tell me it dont snow out there?”

“Massachusetts!” Michael corrected, “And no, it aint pretty like this. Not in the trailer park I grew up in, anyway”

They were working a simple job, just drive cargo from point A to point B, collect money at point B, go home. They didn’t ask what was in the boxes, they didn’t want to know. It was before the drugs hit Trevor, before Michael started drowning in alcohol. They’d been looking for work for weeks after Michael punched their last contract in the face, and Trevor stabbed his bodyguard in the stomach. They had to lay low in Canada for a while, a fact that Trevor detested.

“Fuck this country” Trevor breathed as he loaded the last box in the back of the car. 

He went around the side to where Michael sat on the hood of the car. They’d lifted it a while back, and it was showing signs of abuse by the hands of the boys. Its doors were dented, and a few bullet holes ran along the side of the trunk. Trevor had carved a smiley face on the passenger's seat window, Michael had scratched “M+T” on the hood earlier that day.

Trevor stood in front of Michael who had his nose buried in his book. He rested his forehead against Michael’s, putting his hands in Michael’s jacket. “What’cha readin’ Mr. Smarty Pants?” Trevor asked.

“French 101” Michael said.

Trevor scoffed, pulling away, “Why? Because we’re in Canada? It's a shitty language, Michael! I don't even speak it.”

Michael smirked, “Yes you do. You mumble it all the time, and you said to to our contract!”

“That...That was just..” Trevor was stumbling, trying to come up with a decent cover up. But Michael was already laughing watching him get flustered, how he would put his hands in his pockets and hunch over when he was thinking. Michael stopped laughing as he felt something rise up inside of him, something he wasn’t use to. He just kept smiling, poking at Trevor with his foot. “Hey, say something in French huh?”

“How about ‘Fuck you’ huh?”

“I’m serious!” Michael laughed, “I think it's hot when you talk like that”

Trevor blushed, shuffling over to Michael. 

He reached out, holding Michael’s face in his hands. He whispered,  _ “Bébé, je vais tenir ma botte jusqu'à ce que ton cul soit dégusté de gravier.” _

Michael laughed, “What's that mean?”

“You tell me,  _ Professor” _

Michael wrapped his arms around Trevor’s waist, pulling him in close. He went in to kiss him, his lips felt so warm against Michael’s cold face. He didn’t want to leave him, he wanted to be with him like this forever.  _ That's what this is,  _ he thought to himself.

As he pulled away he laughed, gently caressing Trevor’s cheeks. “Hey, I gotta tell you something” Michael whispered.

“I ain't sayin’ anything else for you in French, Mikey Boy” Trevor groaned.

Michael bit his lower lip, smiling as he held Trevor. “I love you, T. I...I really do”

Trevor let go of Michael, frowning. He put his hands back in his pockets, kicking the snow. 

Michael repeated himself, “Hey, I love you, T”

Trevor turned away from him, looking at the town under them. The snow made everything look so soft, but Trevor knew it was fake. He remembered telling his mother one morning how he wanted to jump from his window into the snow. He was maybe seven, he thought it would feel like cotton. She laughed at him, watching as he fell face first into the one inch snow, breaking his nose. 

“What’d you want from me, M” Trevor whispered, wiping his nose.

Michael hopped off the hood of the car, walking over to Trevor. Trevor’s nose was red from the cold, his eyes tired from driving all night. Michael couldn’t get over how gorgeous he looked, not just now, but everyday, at anytime. He wanted to look at him for hours, his face was like a priceless art piece for Michael. “I don't want anything, T. I just...Whats wrong?” 

Trevor gripped his hair so tight Michael could hear the cracking of his knuckles. Trevor let out a pained cry and started pacing back and forth. 

“Trevor? Trevor!” Michael cried after him, but Trevor didn’t listen to him. He started crying, before he squatted down on the ground covering his face as he sobbed. 

Michael sat down beside him, trying in vain to move his hands away from his face. All he could make out was his nose, and the little scar on the tip from when he’d jumped from his window. Michael knew not to talk about Mrs. Philips with Trevor, he knew not to make any faces while Trevor recounted another tale of abuse. But while he watched him sob after hearing Michael pronounce his love to him, he was filled with hate for her.  _ She did this, that wicked witch, she did this.  _

Michael wrapped his arms around Trevor who melted at his touch. Trevor latched onto Michael’s jacket, sobbing into his neck. “Trevor, I need you to know, I’m not going anywhere” Michael continued, “I’m in this for the long run. I love you, I love you so fucking much. So you cry, alright, baby? I’m here...I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. You let it out, I’m here”

Trevor couldn’t talk. Michael’s words only made him cry out in pain as he sobbed. As she shook Michael kissed his scalp, breathing in his smell. 

“I love you, Mikey” Trevor squeaked up, his face still buried in Michael’s neck. 

“I’m happy when I’m with you, T” Michael smiled.

“I dont hate myself when I’m with you, M” Trevor sniffled as he lifted his head from Michael’s neck. Michael felt the winter air hit the wet spot Trevor had left on his neck, but it didn’t bother him. He cupped Trevor’s face in his hands, looking at his beauty. His brown eyes made Michael feel so safe, so warm. The scars on his nose and lip made him want to kiss them until they disappeared. He loved him,  _ god,  _ he loved him so much. 

“So we’re in this for the long run, the two of us” Michael continued.

Trevor nodded, smiling, “Guess you’re stuck with me, Sugar Tits”

Michael wiped the tears from Trevor’s face before he went in for another kiss. They held each other tightly, breathing in each other’s smell. Michael felt Trevor slip his tongue into his mouth, wanting to taste every bit of him. Michael did the same, he could taste his sadness.

When they pulled away they sat in silence, looking at one another. Trevor had recovered from his sobbing, looked fresh faced and ready to go. “Y’know, Mike, as much as I  _ love  _ getting my dick nice and cold, it's turning into a cock pop out here” Trevor finally said.

“Is that you trying to be flirty?” Michael joked,

“No! Yes? Michael, I fucking hate Canada”

“Alright, alright, let's get in the car, we should get back on the road soon.”

As Michael got up to get in the driver's seat, Trevor felt a little lonely now that he was gone. He felt dumb that he was like this, that he got so sad and lonely so easily. He didn’t even stand up from his spot until Michael called, “You comin’ in, T?”

“Wait, wait, hold your fuckin’ horses” Trevor yelled. He opened the passenger door and reached into the glove compartment, withdrawing a disposable camera. Michael lifted a brow, “You starting a photo journal of all of our crimes?”

“No, ass. C’mere” Trevor yelled as he walked back towards the cliff. 

Trevor held his arms out, trying to figure out which one was longer. Michael laughed watching him try to figure it out, and took the camera out of his hands. “Look, I’ll take the picture of us, but  _ you  _ gotta let me pose however I want” Michael offered.

“If you make that stupid  _ fucking  _ face I hate, Michael, I will leave you in the middle of this fucking country” Trevor hissed,

“Don't worry, you’ll like it” Michael laughed.

The two of them got in close, Michael cupping Trevor’s asscheeks and grinning as Trevor jumped at the touch. “Cowboy you are  _ fine! _ ” Trevor cooed. 

Trevor instinctively held out a middle finger, sticking out his tongue. Michael smiled, craning his head to kiss the sides of Trevor’s lips. 

The two of them both flinched as the flash went off, but neither let go of one another. Trevor pulled Michael in close, growling as he licked Michael’s lips. “You’re disgusting” Michael chuckled,

“You love me” Trevor teased, hugging him tight.

“You’re right, I do. Always, T. Always”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who stuck around to read all of this, left comments, and kudos! This is the first fan fiction I've ever written, and I'm so appreciative of all of the support I've gotten. If you liked this story I'd love if ya'll spread the word to friends, because I strive on validation.  
> As always thank you so much for reading, I hope you all enjoyed it! I'll hopefully be posting more fics in the future, as always, about Michael and Trevor (With happier endings!!).   
> XOXO,  
> Daaarlings


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